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trixareforeveryoneaq · 5 years ago

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Tell the Wolves I’m Home

For the Daenerys Resurrection Week Event Day 5 (I don’t know if this event is still going on, but whatevs. I wrote this so here you go) Thanks @adecila for the moodboard

Can also be found here on ao3 if you desire to leave a comment.

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It was almost six years after he left the Wall with the Free Folk before Jon’s past caught up with him. He kept his distance with certain aspects of the Free Folk in regards to taking a woman or having told the explicit details to those who��d asked what had happened south of the Wall. The only one who knew everything was Tormund and even he didn’t know that Jon was now a kinslayer. For amongst the Free Folk, kinslayers were cursed. However, he still helped within the community and went hunting with them.

It was during one such hunt where the group noticed smoke rising heavily a distance from where they were and had decided to go see what was going on.

Upon arrival, the hunters in front of Jon stopped dead in their tracks with gasps of shock. Pushing them aside, Jon couldn’t help but have a similar reaction.

A weirwood tree burned so badly that only the husk of the trunk remained. But Jon’s eye caught on to what was attached to the burnt trunk. Everyone else did as well and turned from the tree to murmur to each other.

His heart beat wildly and his hands began to shake ever so slightly as he walked up to the partially burned crow that had been impaled to the ruined wood with a dagger. The shaking in his hands increased as he pulled the dagger out and realized that he knew it. He knew it well. Well enough to never be able to forget it.

The dagger he’d used to kill Dany.

It was so blatantly obvious that this message was meant solely for Jon, but he had no idea who left it or when they would come for him. At night, he found himself sitting on his furs, holding the dagger as memories he had tried to distance himself from came rushing back full force.

His answer came on the bleak, muted rays of the morning four days after the discovery. A familiar cry rang through the air that had Jon’s heart stopping and his eyes snapping up towards the sky, desperately searching for the source. Off in the distance to his left, he saw the brief outline of a black dragon before it disappeared into thick clouds, calling out again as it did so. He’d have convinced himself that it was only his imagination had it not been for the fact that everyone else had seen it too.

It continued on like this for almost a week. Jon would see quick glances of Drogon flying, always far enough away that the dragon couldn’t be bothered by the Free Folk but close enough that he could just see the red in his wings and clearly hear the echoes of his cries. He tried to quell the growing feeling of doom each day, but was unsuccessful. Especially when he unconsciously found himself trying to follow the dragon’s trail and would stumble upon the burned carcasses of crows on the ground as well as two more burned weirwood trees.

Jon knew his time with the Free Folk had to come to an end when Drogon started flying closer to where they were, looking around as he went as if searching for something… well, someone. That’s when the worried whispers and fearful looks towards him began. He knew they remembered when he flew on Rhaegal and that he would be the only reason that the dragon would have come here and stayed near for so many days.

On the night of the eighth day, he packed up his belongings, intending to search for Drogon. Or let the dragon find him. Whichever came first.

Upon making his way out of the camp, he pulled up to a stop when Tormund stepped in front of him, a pack on the tall man’s back.

“So I guess we’re goin’ to find that dragon of yours, eh?”

“He’s not my dragon and I can’t ask you to come with me,” Jon said, shaking his head in refusal at his friend.

Tormund clapped him on the shoulder with a sigh and a grim smile. “Ah, I’ve already followed your pretty crow face enough times to know that someone has to look out for you. ‘Cause you sure as fuck won’t.”

With a clenched jaw, Jon slowly breathed out through his nose. He didn’t want his friend involved in this. “You know we’ll probably die.”

The ginger man shrugged, unfazed as he turned towards the woods. “It won’t be the first time we went head first to our death. Who knows? Maybe we’ll come out of this one too.”

Jon looked at Ghost in resignation, knowing he couldn’t dissuade Tormund once his mind was made up. The direwolf’s red eyes stared back silently before he too trotted off on silent feet, leaving Jon no choice but to follow.

As they searched, they realized that no matter which direction the dragon went in the morning, he always flew back northeast. Jon had Ghost lead, using the direwolf’s superior smell to their advantage. It took five days, but they finally found where Drogon had made a temporary lair. An icy lake settled at the bottom of a few mountains where a large cave was carved out of one of them. There was a little forest on the far edge of the lake to their left.

From where they stood, Jon could clearly see how much more Drogon had grown as the dragon perched at the mouth of the cave. Where he’d been huge before, he was twice as large now, if not more.

“All right, we’ve seen the beast,” Tormund muttered to him. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

But Jon found himself unable to move as he continued to stare at the dragon. What was he doing all the way up here? Was he really here for Jon? Had he come back to Westeros and made his way up the realm, avenging his mother? If so, why now? Why wait this long? Or was he simply wandering the earth? Was he connected with whoever left the dagger? Had he...had he somehow found a new rider?

Jon was brought out of his confused musings when Drogon sniffed the air. His head suddenly turned to them, those red eyes staring right at him.

“Fuck,” Tormund breathed right before Drogon let out a roar that Jon felt in his bones and lifted into the air.

“Run!” Jon shouted to his friend.

Not needing to be told twice, they both took off towards the woods. It was a futile attempt. They were covered in shadow and then Drogon was in front of them, forcing them to halt in order to try to keep their balance as the ground shook with his landing. When Jon looked behind them, he saw that the dragon had used his tail to block them in, effectively trapping the pair. He could see Ghost staring at him from a distance, unable to do anything.

Turning back to face Drogon, he was met with an open mouth filled with black teeth the length of Longclaw. He could even see the glow of the fire building in the back of the dragon’s throat. Just as he accepted this was how it was going to end for him, a voice Jon thought he’d never hear again said, “Drogon, kelītīs.”

That huge maw snapped shut and the dragon turned his head to the side. A figure cloaked in black stepped out from behind his wing and into view. Jon felt faint as two small hands pushed away the hood to reveal the face of Daenerys Targaryen.

He stumbled back, barely registering the soft curse Tormund let out as he stared with wide eyed disbelief at the woman he’d loved; the queen he’d murdered before him. It had to be a dream or a hallucination. He had to have gone mad because she couldn’t be standing in front of him, here in the far reaches of the North.

But he knew it wasn’t. Because the Dany in his dreams had long flowing locks of silver all the way down her back that were intricately braided with little bells. This Dany’s hair hung in loose waves that ended at the top of her breasts with only a few strands tied back so it wasn’t in her face. The Dany in his dreams didn’t wear black lightweight leather armor that mimicked dragon scales with a sword hanging from one side, looking like the warrior queen, Visenya Targaryen, come again. The Dany in his dreams certainly never looked at him with such cold loathing.

“I knew you’d come, Jon,” she said. Her voice was like a bolt of lightning down his spine. She rested a small hand on her dragon. “You wouldn’t be able to resist following him, seeing why he was here. Especially not after the gift I left for you.”

Jon couldn’t form a response. He could only stand there and stare, breathing as if he’d run for miles. He let his eyes drink in all the details of her that time had made him forget. He was pretty sure he was looking at her as if he was a man dying of thirst and she was his salvation.

Unmoved, Dany simply arched a brow. “You seem surprised to see me again. I’m not sure why though.” Cocking her head, she gave him a mean smile that was completely foreign to see on her face. “Would you like to see the proof that it’s truly me?” she asked, her hand skimming just under her left breast. “We can compare our scars and reminisce how we were both stabbed by men who were supposed to be loyal to us only to be brought back to life by a red priestess.”

Jon sucked in a sharp breath in shock and couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes. Dany’s smile turned into a full on grin that looked more like she was baring her teeth. When she started walking towards him, her cloak rustled and his eye caught on the handle of the same dagger he found in the weirwood hanging off her other hip. Seeing where his attention was just as she stopped in front of him, Dany looked down and pulled the dagger out, examining it as well.

“I was going to leave this one for you,” she told him as she began spinning and twirling it expertly with her fingers. “But strangely enough, I found myself unable to part with it. So I had a twin made and left that one for you instead. I thought you’d enjoy the sentiment of the gesture regardless of whether or not it was actually the original blade.”

She looked up at him and his heart stopped at having her so close to him. It stunned his entire being for a moment. And in that moment of being caught off guard by her nearness and her beauty, Jon wasn’t able to do anything when she suddenly wrapped her foot around his ankle and pulled forward while pushing down on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Before he could react or fight her off, one hand grabbed his hair to pull his head back, meeting her violet eyes again. The other held the dagger to his throat.

“I’ve learned a few things since I was brought back,” she said with a smirk.

Tormund shouted out and made to move forward as if to help Jon, but was immediately halted by Drogon turning towards him and letting out a horrible roar. Throughout the entire exchange, Dany’s eyes never left Jon.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Tormund Giantsbane,” she warned calmly, finally turning her focus to him with a sardonic smile. “After all, you’re dealing with a dragon rider and according to you, only a king or a madman would ride a dragon. And since I’m obviously no king, by your logic, I am therefore the madman.” Violet eyes went back to Jon then. Her smile softened into a mockery of something gentle because her eyes still held that emptiness in them. She let go of his hair to trail her fingers lightly down his face. “And mad people...well, it’s best to treat us with caution. We can be so very unpredictable when provoked. Sometimes with catastrophic results, wouldn’t you agree, Jon?”

He flinched away at her words, how casually she called herself mad and the reminder of what she’d done, unable to look at her. She caught him by the chin though, refusing to let him move. “Oh, no. None of that now, Jon,” she reprimanded with that same tone. She jerked his head back up. Her eyes were colder than the harshest North wind and the fingers holding him dug into his skin to the point of pain. “Don’t hide from the monster you helped turn me into. Look at the fruit of what your actions bore. Accept it, as I had to.”

Jon’s throat ached with how tight it was from holding in all the emotions swirling in him and he felt that he would break any moment. Still, he didn’t look away from those eyes that were so similar yet so very different. They didn’t look anything like they had the last time he’d stared into them. They were as clear and still as water. There was none of the passion he remembered seeing. Even in the throne room, she’d gazed up at him with love. Now they were dead. Oddly enough, it was that fact that made him want to weep, but he held it in. After a while, he finally was able to ask, “are you here to kill me then?”

She smiled as if he’d said something completely ridiculous and could only laugh sympathetically at him. “Kill you? I’m not here to kill you, Jon Snow. No, I’m here to warn you. Because soon, I have a very strong feeling that others are going to come looking for you. My dear old Hand and your supposedly all seeing king brother for example. Maybe even your treacherous sister.”

Even though he stayed silent, she apparently could see the wariness in his eyes and explained, “they’re going to want you to stop me. After all, you’re already apparently cursed from killing me before, aren't you? My blood is already on your hands, so what’s the harm in dirtying them a second time? Better you than them.”

Swallowing that old familiar feeling of dread mingled with panic, he quietly asked, “stop you from doing what?”

“You’re so far removed from the rest of the world up here in your little idyllic winter wonderland, you've no idea how one can smell it in the air when arriving on these shores; how the earth here is practically quivering with it in anticipation. The deep breath before the plunge.”

“What? What is it?” he rasped.

“Revolution. Liberation,” she said with an indulgent smile that still didn’t reach those cold, cold eyes. Yet she still managed to stare at him so piercingly that he felt like the deepest parts of him were being stripped bare. “Fulfilling my oath to break the wheel and remake the world.”

The memory of her speech to her armies after she’d burned King’s Landing came to him and made him go cold all over.

“Dany, you–” The name was out before he could think and he paid for his mistake. His head was turned to the side by the force of her smack to his cheek. She grabbed his hair and yanked hard as she leaned down until only a few inches were left between them.

“Don’t you ever call me that again,” she snarled. And just like that, her eyes were suddenly filled with such rage that they practically glowed. The only consolation in being on the receiving end of her fury was that at least there was the life he remembered in them. It hadn’t completely disappeared.

The blade at his throat pressed in hard enough to pierce his skin. “You lost that right when you abandoned me in Winterfell; when you continuously refused to return the love I felt for you in the time I needed it the most; when you stabbed me in the heart.”

With a look of disgust, she let go of him and took a few steps back. Not looking away from him, Dany twirled the dagger in her hand before sheathing it. When he remained kneeling, she snapped, “get up. You look pathetic.”

Jon clenched his jaw but did as he was told. By the time he was on his feet, she had regained her cold, steely composure. The way she stood with her hands folded in front of her and her chin held high felt like a kick in the gut as a painful wave of nostalgia washed over him, forcing him to remember the queen she used to be.

“Even if you did wish to stop me, you can’t. It's too late. It’s already begun.” She looked out over the white expanse in front of them. “It’s taken years of convincing and whisperings of a better life. Years of organizing and planning while simultaneously continuing to free the remaining slave cities in Essos. But the common folk of Westeros are finally waking up and finding that they’re unsatisfied. They realize that they want more; that they can have more. Because I will give them more.”

“The Iron Throne is gone. ” he said, almost pleading with her.

She huffed a laugh, still eyeing the area around them. “I’m not doing this to be queen. I don’t need to be queen. That’s my point. Kings, queens, lords, ladies, they’re all unnecessary. Once I’ve given the people their liberation and the tools to use for their next step in governing themselves, I’m leaving. My old bear once told me that dragons plant no trees. Dragons make no homes. I forgot that. I listened to the young, lonely woman inside of me and tried to make the home I’d always yearned for. With you,” she said. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “But we both know how that turned out.”

Ignoring each new slice of pain her constant jabs caused him, Jon asked, “what are you going to do to the nobles then? How will you handle them and their soldiers, Daenerys? The common folk don’t know how to fight against armies.”

Another joyless smile as she turned to face him fully and cocked her head. “Now why would I tell you that?” Jon’s lips thinned, knowing she was justified in not sharing her plans with him and feeling like a fool for thinking she might. “I’ll give you a boon though and say that they won't be alone. Plenty of those with power understand what I’m fighting to achieve and are willing to help me.” She gave a sly smile as she went on to say, “and also, Drogon presented a gift to me right after I was brought back that he came across during one of his travels to Valyria. And I’ve not wasted it. Would you like to see?”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Drogon who lifted his head and called out. Gooseflesh erupted across Jon’s skin when an answering call was heard, then another. Out of the large cave emerged two dragons. They took to the air and lazily made their way to where they stood. When they landed on either side of Drogon, the size difference was easily noticeable, but they were still extremely large. Probably the size of Rhaegal when Jon had ridden him.

Impossible, he thought. But of course it wasn’t impossible. Of course if anyone was going to bring dragons back into the world again, it would be the mother of dragons.

Dany walked up to the one whose scales looked like gold coins. Its horns and wings were a rich, dark blue color with a sheen that was reminiscent of a pearl. Dark gold eyes flickered from Dany to Jon.

“Mirax,” she said reverently, laying a hand on the dragon’s snout before walking to the other and repeating the gesture. This one a dark pine green with black horns and wings and silver eyes. “Morrelion.”

Looking at Jon, she dropped her hand. “Named after my two closest and most beloved advisors. Brought back to life just as my first children were.”

She then pulled out her sword and gave it a few expert swings. “You see, Jon. I learned from my mistake. I’m so much more prepared for Westeros this time. I can now fight just as easily with a sword as I can off the back of Drogon. I understand the loyalty you gained from fighting side by side with your men. The difference between us though is that while you’ve led armies, I command legions.”

For some reason, knowing that Dany had not only learned how to fight but had apparently been in battles made his heart hurt. A very small, irrational part of him hated that he wasn’t the one who taught her; that he hadn’t been there, fighting by her side.

When the blade caught the light, his eyes widened a little as he saw what it looked to be made of. She flashed him a smug smirk as she kept it aloft, confirming his thought. “Yes, Valyrian steel. Another gift from someone who felt I was finally deserving of it.”

Resheathing it, she said, “so I’ll handle the lords and ladies and everyone who opposes me the same way I handled the great masters. They can live in my new world or die in their old one.”

Jon stiffened. Her purple eyes caught the motion and her smile turned deadly. “Are you thinking of your beloved siblings? The family you constantly chose over me? Never fear, dear nephew, if they die, it won’t be at my hands. I simply plan to be there to enjoy their downfall. Along with your old friend Samwell Tarly and my dear Hand.”

She began stalking towards him, like a cat toying with her prey. “Your continued loyalty to them is ever so interesting though. What was it you Starks were always posturing? The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives?” Stopping, she held out her arms and looked around. “Well? Where’s your pack, Jon Snow? Where’s your family?” With a scoff, she let her arms fall. “I’ll tell you where. They’re enjoying the spoils of our downfall. Your so called family used you as their puppet and threw you away once they got what they wanted and you were of no more use to them. The same as you all did to me.”

His fists clenched so hard, he could feel his nails biting into his skin. Again, she saw it. “The truth is a harsh mistress to lie with, isn’t she, Jon?”

“I never used you. I followed you. I pledged myself to you.”

“That’s right. Do you remember your vow to me right before you stabbed me in the heart? I was your queen, now and always. I wonder if that still holds true,” she mused, stepping towards him again. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, as she leaned in and loudly whispered, “shall we test to see if your family’s saying holds true as well? Does the lone wolf really die?”

“Stop it,” he snapped. He hated the words coming from her mouth. He hated that the woman he’d loved had become so cold and cruel. He hated that he was the reason why she was.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dany’s lips slowly curled up. “As my nephew, the rightful king commands,” she mocked, dipping into a curtsy.

“I’m not the bloody king of Westeros,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I never was and I never wanted that damned throne.”

Her smile fell as she straightened. “No,” she disagreed, “you were a king, Aegon. Now, you’re a queenslayer, an oathbreaker, a kinslayer. Now, you’re nothing.”

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Jon closed his eyes. “Say whatever you want to say. Hurt me however you want. I deserve it. I hate myself for what I did. But I had to do it, Daenerys.” He opened his eyes to meet hers, his voice rising as he went on. “You were out of control and you didn’t even care that you’d just murdered thousands of innocent people!”

“And you didn’t even try to help me! Even before King’s Landing!” she yelled back. “You didn’t talk to me, you didn’t defend me, you didn’t do anything! You stood there while your sister, oh excuse me, cousin, openly disrespected me! I lost my armies to save your people and you couldn’t even tell them to be at least a little grateful! No, you just sat there and smiled like a gods damned fool and the puppet you were. I was drowning and not only did you not try to pull me out, you pushed me under and let the waves consume me.”

Taking a steadying breath, she composed herself. “But you made me realize that I can never depend too much on anyone in this world. Even my shadow leaves me when I’m in darkness.”

Jon’s eyes fell closed a second time as he absorbed the truth of her words. “I’m sorry, Daenerys,” he said brokenly. “You’ve no idea how much.”

“We’re all sorry for something, Jon Snow. I would know that better than anyone,” she finally said in a cool voice, making him look at her. “But words are wind. Action is what’s needed to make up for the wrongs we've done to others. It’s why I’ve returned to this forsaken land. I’m here to pay the debt I owe.” Her lip curled. “So don’t stand there and insult me with your paltry excuse of remorse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” he argued. “I hated it. Even though I was told it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, it didn’t feel right. Not then, not now.”

He could tell that she refused to listen to what he had to say. When she stepped away, he matched her by stepping forward.

“If you can’t believe anything else I’ve said, at least believe that I loved you. So much,” he told her, desperation in his voice as he begged with his eyes for her to believe him.

Dany looked at him with something akin to stern pity. “I’m sure you thought yourself to be in love with me.”

Anger flared up in him at the way she so easily dismissed him. When he grabbed her shoulders and her face went blank. “Damn it, Daenerys! I know my own feelings! You were the love of my life!”

Once again, they got trapped in each other’s eyes in a silent battle of wills. Even though her expression didn’t change, he felt the air around her soften. Ever so slowly, she lifted her hands to cup his cheeks, her eyes never leaving his. The heat of her skin; the gentleness of her touch as she rubbed her thumb across his skin was what finally broke Jon. The ache in his throat he’d been holding back the entire time loosened enough that the smallest sob broke through before he could stop it. He turned to nuzzle into her palm as his own hands went to her neck to pull her closer. The smell of smoke, snow, and Daenerys filled his nostrils and made him want to bury his face in her neck.

“If that were true,” she whispered, her hot breath fanning his lips, “you wouldn’t have pulled away from me when you found out that you’re a Targaryen. You would have stayed. Because it wouldn’t have mattered...in the end.”

He shook his head, trying to find the words that would make her understand the turmoil he’d felt back then; wishing that she believed him and hating that she didn’t.

“I loved you,” she said quietly, “more than anyone else I had ever loved before. So much that I gave you everything I had.” She pulled back, letting him see her sorrow and hurt as her next words sliced through him worse than anything else she’d said. “And you repaid that love by showing me that once again, I wasn’t enough.”

She dropped her hands from his face and stepped away, taking all the warmth with her and leaving him with nothing but regret. The rawness of her words and openness he saw in her gaze made Jon’s face crumble under the weight of it all. His chest clenched so hard, he didn’t know how he was still standing. Before he could say anything though, she blinked and her face quickly became hard as stone. “But as I’ve said, I learned my lesson. I don’t want you or anyone else to believe that the love I once held for you is why I spared you. The reason I have not and will not kill you is because I want you to live with the knowledge that I’m not only alive, I’m thriving.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I want it to choke you.”

With that, she headed to Drogon and climbed onto his back. Once settled, she looked down at him imperiously and said, “The time of the wolves is over. Dragons put them on their thrones and it will be dragons that tear them down. Stay here or don’t. It makes no difference to me. But if you do stand against me, Jon Snow, I will show you as much mercy as you showed me. Except I won’t tell you pretty words and kiss your lips as I do.”

Then Drogon was pushing off into the air, with the other two following, flying towards a place and future Jon didn’t know. He couldn’t tear his eyes away even when Tormund came to stand next to him. With each flap of those wings that took her farther away, the part of his heart that still belonged to her broke anew.

It was only when they were mere specks that Tormund let out a whistling breath and asked, “what in the fucking hells are you gonna do now?”

And well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Because he had absolutely no idea.

#daenerys resurrection week #day 5 au #daenerys targaryen #jon snow

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, SAY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RYUK.

Admin Jen: Say, I wish there were words to describe my joy over your application. Not only because you’re bringing us my beloved Pale Rider, but because of the beautiful way with which you captured them. There was so much to love about your app, but I have to admit that it was the para sample which stole my heart. Ryuk’s voice, his image of the other Horsemen and the way it bled into his dialogue throughout, the nuance in his perspective and the small tics in his mannerisms. It was all so vivid, so visceral, and so mesmerizing to take in. Although I absolutely cannot deny the impact of all the other sections in the app, which only served to amplify the portrayal and bring it to life in a way that left me so thrilled to leave Ryuk in your hands. I trust you with him completely, and I pray for the New World to bear their arrival. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER.

ALIAS | Say.

AGE | 25.

PERSONAL PRONOUNS | She/Her/Hers.

ACTIVITY LEVEL | Hopefully around 6/10! I check the dash basically every day for replies, but whether I get to them or not is a completely different story 🥴 Also, given that this is a highly literate roleplay, it may take me a tad longer to craft replies and post them, but I’m confident I can meet the 8 post/month minimum that you outline in your guidelines.

TIMEZONE | EST / UTC-5.

TRIGGERS | REMOVED.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE GROUP? | A mutual of mine reblogged some of the first promo posts onto my dash. From then I’ve been following the group, and I finally got a chance to read through all of the lore / word-building you guys have done and I am super impressed.

CURRENT / PAST RP ACCOUNTS |

IN CHARACTER.

CHARACTER

Ryuk.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I will admit that when I was first browsing, I had the worst choice paralysis because all of the biographies were compelling in their own way. The Angels and their pretentious morality, the Demons with their freewheeling madness, the Gifted toeing the line between mortal and divine, desperate to survive in a world with their powers… That being said, I kept on going back to Horsemen because of their remarkable existence across Caelum, Sanctus Terra, and Infernum. Not quite Angels or Demons, and far from mortal, I interpreted them to be the closest beings to God the world has, given that they were torn from the flesh of God Himself.

This steadfast solidarity between Viktoria, Ryuk, Nerissa, and Dmitri really hit me square in the chest. Four distinctive beasts, hungry for bloodshed, are dropped into a world already ravaged by devastation at the hands of God’s own creations — so they take solace in each other, even broken from their original purpose. And yet, even amongst these four outliers, Ryuk stood out to me even more, because of their innate understanding of the ravaged world before him. While Nerissa raged for their stolen war, while Viktoria mourned their own creation in Purgatory, while Dmitri adjusted their child-like senses to their surroundings so starkly different whence they came, Ryuk intrinsically knew of their role on this plane of existence.

I recognized the subtle intricacies woven into Ryuk’s biography, and wanted to challenge myself by writing a character whose desires, motives, and perception of the world is markedly unique from how I interpret my world. What sort of purpose could a Horseman have when stripped of their divine right and design? What do the immortals fear when they are bound with eternal life? What could Death himself fear, when they know the unknowable, and have the power to exact their purpose?

All beings, regardless of their time on earth, fear death in some way. For divine beings, it is the possibility of their destruction through their infinite life, and for mortals, it is the inevitability of it that induces fear. But what about Death himself? Is it possible that they could be terrified of it as well?

PLOTS.

DISCLAIMER: I illustrated a few points that rely on the development of other characters, most specifically the Horsemen, but it will all obviously rely on me working out the details with other players.

I. A HUNGER FOR DEATH PROMISES A STARVATION OF LIFE — a division amongst a former whole.

We begin the story with the Horsemen being a single unit, working alongside each other in relative harmony, existing as mercenaries for the highest bidder. In a world teetering on the fragile truce between the Angels, Demons, and Mortals, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walk alone, united in their understanding that they are unlike anything else walking the holy grounds. Without each other, they have nothing — so they remain close together out of deficit rather than benefit. However, in each of the Horsemen’s biographies, you’ve outlined a faint, yet irrefutable line dividing the four. As it stands, the division relies on recognition; Ryuk has always understood Nerissa and her cause more than he sympathizes with Nerissa or Dmitri. So what if that line became a crack?

I’ve interpreted the current division to lie within the fundamental conflict of bloodlust vs. power, with Ryuk and Nerissa lying firmly in the former camp, though this would all be hammered out with the appropriate muns. But the interest lies within the Horsemen, and what would happen if their loyalties suffered an upset — who would they pledge their allegiance to?

II. MONSTERS, WE ARE NOT SO UNALIKE, YOU AND I — an unlikely understanding.

This brings me into the next plot point, which involves Ryuk’s connections to the other factions.

Within my app, I sought to base much of Ryuk on what he is not — and their antithetical existence to Cade is something I played with deeply in this application. As hungry as they are for blood, there is a distinct lack of intention behind their killing, as if they inflict death because they are a Horseman. It is why the division is so crucial for Ryuk to begin to align themselves to a cause. A trap I don’t want to fall into while writing them is not giving them a fear to hold onto. I think the fascinating part about Ryuk is that they were birthed out of God’s terror of His unknown — and that is precisely what they fear the most. They feel safe and powerful when aligned with his fellow Horsemen, but without them, what do they know?

The details of what would sweeten their attraction to any cause is something I want to keep open, rather than delineate extensively here, but the core of it is the same: to lower them down so that they may see the light in another’s faith.

III. IN MY END IS MY BEGINNING — a touch of Death.

And here, we end with a renewal of their perspective. Some sort of mortal injury happens that gives Ryuk a taste of their own medicine, perhaps in saving something they have truly learned to care about, as much as their dark heart will allow.

Given that they fear losing their power and dominion over mortals, throwing them into a situation where they are possibly injured by one is a surefire way of allowing Ryuk to face what truly lies dormant underneath: what is their purpose? And why are they here and living, despite having their purpose erased so long ago with the death of their Creator?

Perhaps this will finally give them a hunger for something more than just taking souls and money for it.

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF THIS CHARACTER?

As long as it serves a specific purpose for the long-term prospects of the group’s plot, 100% yes.

IN DEPTH.

DRIVING CHARACTER MOTIVATION

I admit that this is the one of the parts of the application I struggled with, because for all intents and purposes, Death’s purpose has been ripped away from them. They, along with the other three Horsemen, were created for Earth’s apocalypse — but now that they’ve been thrown into the world without it, in some ways they are lost beyond comparison.

Even so, Ryuk was still built to thirst for mortal blood at their hand, and as of now, that base instinct is what they actively rely on to move through the world. They are desperate and hungry for the souls they’ve been promised by God, and nothing more.

And yet, I think they are also terrified of what it means to be stripped of their purpose. There’s this tentative resentment they hold for the world that no longer needs the Horsemen to wreak havoc, and yet, a terror that overtakes them when they think of fully relinquishing what they’ve been handed down from God. A fear of incompetence, the unknown, and the uselessness they feel is what drives Ryuk to continue to do what they’ve always known. After all, it’s easier to believe in a belief they’ve held close to their chest for so long.

CHARACTER TRAITS

( + ) RESOLUTE | Permanence: it is the one thing Ryuk knows to be true. Mortal blood expires, and nobody knows it better than the harbinger of Death himself. It is what makes them loyal, unwavering in their beliefs in their tar-black soul once he has made up their mind. ( + ) ASTUTE | It is impossible to be foolish when he has the ghosts of the past right at his fingertips; a history, laid before them like an open book. And what are first impressions, when they have the still-lingering souls to guide him along? Not much escapes their eyes or ears, and they use their gift well, for himself first, and for the Horsemen second. ( + ) VIGILANT | All that knowledge, always within reach — it would be a shame if they did not apply it well. Though he can be quick to react, it is rarely out of ineptitude or undisciplined impulse; it is precisely the wealth of information he gleans that makes them all the more wary to enter into a situation without identifying the risks first. They are adamant on victory, not by anyone else’s terms but their own. ( – ) DUPLICITOUS | He has no qualms about trickery, or resorting to underhanded means to get their way. After all, what is integrity to a being that values Death above everything else? What is honor to a Horsemen without a future, when Death is the period, the endmark to every creature with a beating, bloody heart? ( – ) RUTHLESS | When Ryuk first learns of the word mercy from the spirits’ whispers, they can barely fathom the concept. Sparing another out of the benevolence of one’s heart? It’s practically laughable, given their own penchant for cruelty when faced with their victims. He is ( – ) PASSIONLESS | And one wonders: what could make such a merciless killer unflinching in the face of their purpose? Yes, they relish in every single kill, just as much as his compatriots, but in the end, he does it because it is all he knows. One cannot mistake the devotion they show for passion, the very fire that ignites the circle of life. No, Death will not and cannot be acquainted with life, no matter how many live souls they take for themselves.

PARA SAMPLE

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” — Matthew 24:36

From the beginning, at the very break of their conception at the hands of God, Ryuk is told they are the antithesis of emotion. It is an age-old story of the hero, their origin a simple blip in the vaporous, golden-god kingdom from which he is torn, cast into darkness until their path is clear — but Ryuk is not a hero. No, they are told that some day, they shall wreak havoc across the mortal realm that He has forged to collect their birthright of the damned souls roaming the earth. When? It’s insolence, a rare bit tumbling out for his Creator, He who has torn a part to make their whole.

You will know, and it is thunderous, the cadence of his voice, that even Death quivers, when the gates to the mortal realm opens. And then, they are thrown into their realm, devoid of anything but dust and half-formed souls. They know this, because the moment they’d slipped into the aphotic depths of His plan is the exact moment they hear their wails, deafening, ululating, even for their immortal senses.

And oh, did they wail. Told stories of dominions and dirt, of princes and peasants, a swarm of the dead desperate for the ear of a God — or however close they could get to such a being. Time and time again, Ryuk would swat the cloud away, gaze always focused in the distance, where the dark smoke broke into a line of halcyon shimmer, and they’d ask Him ( pray, a soul whispers ) for their birthright, their infernal kingdom of souls.

Ages pass. They hear nothing. They see nothing. The gilded line shrinks. But what is time for an immortal? Still, they hunger for the permanence of their existence; here, in this inchoate cavity of God’s creation, they are useless. The void is a steadiness of not quite death, but the absence of life — a temporary, an unhappy medium that they cannot satiate themselves on no matter how hard they strived. When? They think again, but He is long gone, in His heavens with His angels and His mortals He’d bore out of Love.

In the ages to come, they will begin to understand this. Tales brushed in human concepts, of Love and Fear and Ecstasy and Hope, of those dominions and dirt, the princes and peasants. In the ages to come, they will see that the mortals flourish, souls rising to Heaven and Hell without their touch. They will see the expanse of God’s love for His children, in fractured pieces of the half-gone souls’ shrieks, wondrous at how He could destroy something He’d built from the sands of the lands. They will ask why did the mother forbid her to marry her lover? and the souls will answer, because she loved her daughter, a babe she’d birthed for nothing in return.

“For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” — Matthew 24:7

And what they mean to say is — no, they do not understand. How could God, in all his love for his mortal creations, bring their deliverance, Famine and War and Conquest and Death, upon the moral planes? What is their purpose aside to destroy what He has created? To understand the world is to hold it in one’s hands and inflict upon it an inconceivable love, of which they had none in their ichor-stricken heart.

They resent God for this. They resent their purpose, and yet, they walk the earthly plains alongside their comrades, knowing that even God has succumbed — and so they hold their faith, deal their foreordained havoc in spades.

“For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.” — Revelation 16:14

“You must have mistaken me for a being of mercy, of which I am not.” Viktoria’s nostrils flare. Ryuk’s voice is low enough that the others do not catch the impertinent remark, the subtlest of digs on what she prized most. Within visible distance, Dmitri fiddles with a mortal contraption, one of the many gifts from his beautiful admirers, and far off, in the other direction, Nerissa sharpens her blade on a slick slab of quartz, eyeing her two comrades with a watchful eye.

Among them all, fallows, burnt yellow and unseemly, spread out across either side, an end distant and impossible. In this part of land, there is nothing but rainfall and smog, untraversed by even the most seasoned of travelers, which, of course, had made it ideal for the likes of the Horsemen. Nothing but tar black clouds roamed the sky, save for the sliver of white in the horizon, a marker of Caelum to the North. The line glows, and Ryuk is briefly struck by the likeness of their environment to the emptiness from which they came. If they listen diligently enough, the winds almost mimic the agonized shrieks of undamned souls, and it completes the resemblance, far too uncanny for their liking. He shifts on his feet, left and right, and tugs on his ear. A cue, he’d learned, then committed to muscle memory, to ward away the spirits when they were not needed.

“And as always, you have failed to listen. And they say you can hear the spirits with those ears?”

It is Ryuk, this time, that prickles under the weight of the insult. Viktoria, as always, has fashioned herself as the brains of their expeditions, always pointing out their next destination. He cannot blame her; of the quad, they all know she is the weakest, but her passion for their good fate flares stronger than his own. Viktoria, always the one hungering for something more. A desire for a bite of the heavens whence they came.

To each their own, they suppose.

“I have provided all of us with good information, have I not? Saved our good health, if I remember correctly, more times than I desire to count.” Their sharp glare meets the other’s steel-bit fire, and she huffs.

“And what are your qualms of this plan? Do you plan to serve this diseased Tridium for our eternity?”

Besides him, the souls begin to howl. Cry out, they will hunt and kill you, they have weaponry, blessed by the something dark and holy, and yet, another faction beckons, they are no match for the Apocalypse, they are not as strong as you believe —

“What is it?”

They snap out of their trance. In the centuries they have known each other, they have all learned each other’s behaviors like their own kin. Like the flicker in Nerissa’s jaw when she lusts for blood, the fondness glimmering in Dmitri’s eye when he spies a mortal he desires. They’ve all seen the half-slack stupor Ryuk undergoes when he channels the voices of the dead, most of all Viktoria, but he brushes her away, throat cleared with a rumble.

“Nothing. They caution us against it.”

“And?”

The sinew in their neck tenses. “And there is nothing else. We all know that some mortals are still gifted. They hold the power to our demise as much as we for theirs.”

Viktoria scoffs. It is clear, in her stance, from her gaze, that she does not believe he is giving her the entire truth. “We will need more than that if we are to carry through with it; perhaps, they can tell us the size of their armory, or perhaps how it could be of use to us...“ Eyes averted, she begins to pace a small distance. They can already see the cogs turn in their brain, assembling their scheme for an upset of power across the lands.

“And who has agreed to carry through with this design? Dmitri?”

They look up. Viktoria, who’d been addressed; Dmitri, who’d believed they'd been summoned; Nerissa, who’d smelled the whiff of conflict. The lines, there are always the lines. Viktoria with Dmitri, himself with Nerissa. Left unsaid, but voice did not negate the fact that the line is a truth, hanging amongst them like an errant thread, impossible to sever even with the sharpest of blades. “You don’t believe we can do it?”

They stare, unflinching against her black gaze, because for all that they lack with their deadened atrophy and rot, they fill themselves with the faith that there will always be more souls to take. They do not prescribe themselves to a greater fate other than the one that has been given to them, from God, their Creator. What use do they have of power, when they had all that they required in the present?

“If we take this job, do this favor for this mortal, we will secure an ear in the ranks — a cousin of a member of the Round Table, and we can use leverage, to raise our status, to find these heavenly instruments to mine for crystallis —”

“Of which he has none, Viktoria, in case you have forgotten!”

From the corner of their eye, they see Dmitri flinch, Nerissa cease her movements to sharpen her blade. They are always like this, vying for a position that neither of them particularly desire, but ages have passed since they’ve come to terms with their uncertain fate. They’d been dropped amongst mortals and divinity alike, across barren lands and built cities, alone in their status as creatures of God, literal in every sense of the word. He had torn them, the four of them, from His own celestial body, had He not?

They are quiet again.

Mere mortals would have raged, now Ryuk knows this. It is the security of more that protects (or rather, exposes) the others to wars, seething with blood and blades, to the black certainty of hatred that infected the strength of their ranks, susceptible and raw. Their net, of course, had perished along with the annihilated remains of God’s and Lucifer’s immortal bodies. They had nobody, and would have nobody else, until the end of time.

Perhaps they all realize this, sheepish expressions flitting across their eyes, the sunken hollows of their cheeks. Jagged as they are in countenance and disposition, Ryuk has realized they have gone too far in their words. His head hangs an inch lower, shoulders hunched in sour defeat. It is all that they need for the mood to lift. Viktoria nods, and they mount their horses, in implicit agreement that they would defer the conversation for another time.

They scan the fields. It is still sunken, stinking of something burnt yet still living, sodden with the foul scent of mortal dirt. The gales have only reinforced their vigor, screeching through the vast space, washing away their bitter anguish — but the winds are just that, the earlier parallel lost, if only because they had three others by their side. They have survived the fire, and they will survive, untouched, riding their noble steeds into the winds, not separate, but as one.

#accepted #accepted: ryuk

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exdraghunt · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Interview

- nobody tagged me, but I wanted to do this anyway so-

Name(s): Ed

Fandom(s): Current: Transformers, Brave Police J-Decker (coming soon). In the past, possibly again in the future: Starlight Express, LazyTown, Steam Powered Giraffe, Knight Rider, Ghost Rider, Thomas the Tank Engine

Where you post: Archive of our Own

Most popular one-shot (by kudos): That would be Sweaters , with 345 kudos. It was the second of my Lazytown Christmas-specials, which I wrote in one go on Christmas Eve.

Most popular multi-chap (also by kudos): Wings at 853 kudos. My "Robbie Rotten but if he had wings" Robbie/Sportacus fic. I might get around to actually finishing the sequel at some point. Was not expecting this one to beat my TF fics!.

Favorite story you've written so far: Hmm. In terms of "this is incredibly self-indulgent and I'm writing it to cater to every single one of my kinks" I'd have to say Drop To Drink. (AKA: the Titty!AU)

IN terms of fics I'm rather proud of sharing with other people, Last of the Wild Cabooses. . I put a lot of research into railroad history to write this fic, and then did a shit-ton of worldbuilding on top of that.

Fics you were nervous to post: High Tide . My first time ever posting an mpreg fic publicly. I was terrified of the reaction I'd get. Fortunately, it was nothing but positive!

On a similar note, I was nervous about getting flames on my Thomas the Tank Engine ship fics (especially when I wrote TTTE mpreg) but that never materialized. Now, I've stopped giving a shit and will post just about anything.

How do you choose your titles: Gonna be honest, I usually choose song lyrics (eg. Behind Blue Optics, Runner in the Night, Midnight Run, No Days for Knights, Marching Inland). Sometimes it's a reference to something (Drop to Drink, comes from the Knight Rider episode 'Not a Drop To Drink' which has nothing to do with the fic). Sometimes, it's just a phrase that works well. (When the Bomb Drops, A Winglord's Duty)

Do you outline?: Not really. I do tend to daydream/fantasize the entire fic before I actually sit down and write it, though, so I know where the fic is going. I just don't bother to write it down. I spend a lot of time on the bus, or lying in bed, just. Planning out the next scenes for my fics.

Complete: Quite a few, I'm proud to say. All my Thomas the Tank Engine fics (6), my TUGS fics (5), my Knight Rider fics (2) (except for one not posting to Ao3 yet), several Starlight Express fics (5), (3) Lazytown fics, (2) Steam Powered Giraffe fics, and (3) Transformers fics.

In-progress: Too many. . . The Lazytown fics are on hiatus until I feel like finishing them. Might not ever get back to the StEx stuff, we'll see.

In progress that I'm actually working on are my Transformers fics (Pearl of Polyhex, When the Bomb Drops, Drop to Drink, and Behind Blue Optics)

Coming soon: Next up on the list will be a Brave Police J-Decker fic (working title: To Weather the Storm), and another Transformers J/P fic (working title: the Carrying Class AU)

Not started: So many. A basic idea of what's rattling around in my brain

the aforementioned BPJD fic (introducing my OC and bringing back Kagerou), plus a sequel (a mechpreg fic, with Deckerd and Gunmax, because I am extremely predictable)

Brainwashing!AU (dark Tumbler/Prowl, misuse of mnemosurgery, serial killer investigation, and Jazz figuring out that something is very very wrong.)

Prompts? I don't normally write from prompts, since I have enough going on in my head, I don't need the extra stimulus. The only prompt challenge I've done was Thirst Trap April (Bruised Spark) which was, admittedly, a lot of fun. Pearl of Polyhex came out of a series of asks, so I guess that's close?

Upcoming work you're most excited about: I am excited about all my upcoming projects. But, if pressed, I'd say the Carrying Class!AU. There's a lot of scenes in there I'm really excited to write, and some fun worldbuilding too.

#ed rambles

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fierypen37 · 5 years ago

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Victory is in Your Veins

another chapter up!

Chapter 3

Day Sixty-Eight: The White Wolf

“Again!” Morrgys bellowed. The Dothraki Morbo lunged, armed with his arakh. Black steel whistled through the salty air. Jon was ready. He ducked the blow and struck out, his punch just missing Morbo’s ear. The staff end of the arakh had a heavier whistle than the blade. Jon had caught that blow often enough to dodge that one too, though just barely. The Dothraki was fast. The pitch of the deck was choppy beneath his bare feet, the sun peeking through thick grey-bellied clouds. The master hadn’t seen fit to arm or armor Jon. As the greenest of Morrgys’ slaves, he must rely on wit and strength. Each blow was a lesson learned.

Jon swept out one leg, knocking Morbo’s legs from under him. He struck quick as a striking snake. Landing one knee hard on his chest, Jon twisted the arakh from his grip and held the razor edge to Morbo’s throat, just beneath the bronze collar. The Dothraki’s black eyes were ablaze with hate, tinged with something colder. Fear. It was the third time Jon had disarmed him today. Morrgys’s disgust was palpable. The string of invective was still incomprehensible to Jon, but he caught the words ‘weak’ and ‘pathetic.’

In the weeks on this miserable ship—in between retching his guts out over the rail—training began before dawn and did not end until well after the sun had set. Strength training was weights tied to wrist and ankle and being thrown overboard. Jon kept his head above water, choking and sputtering until his lungs felt they would burst and his limbs burned as if the very marrow was afire. Stubborn, he kicked and kicked, choking on seawater. Only when the frigid water closed over him did they tow him back aboard. Meals were salt beef and barley stew with stale brown bread, thin beer and brackish water. Hard massage from indifferent hands worked the aches from his muscles at the end of each day. A calculated recipe to tear a man down to nothing and build him up again.

Slavery stripped what little softness lingered on his body. Blisters welled and burst on his hands, the soles of his bare feet. Only accomplished slaves wore shoes. Sorefoot, Thicktongue, they called him as they barked orders in bastard Valyrian. Every night curled onto his mean little cot of dirty straw, scratching at flea bites, he counted each welt and bruise. He scratched a tally of the days on the wall, but soon lost track. Morrgys was not opposed to waking them in the wee hours for more drills. The best fighters in the pits were strong, yes, but more important, they were nimble. Morbo delighted in telling him the savageries that occurred during his fights.

“It is not just men in the pits. The best fighters bleed for their masters. Lesser men, krol, will fight beasts. Lions and bears and the like. There are children. One day, I see a bear in the pit. One young boy was drenched in blood, another in honey, another in rotted fish. The crowd wagered on who the bear would eat first.”

Jon’s belly roiled. The scum of the world gathered on cushioned benches, eating sweetmeats while children were torn apart in front of them. He didn’t think it was possible to loathe them any more than he already did.

“And what are we?” Jon asked. Morbo spat in Jon’s direction.

“‘We,’ ver? I am a prized fighter of the blood of old horselords. You are nothing.”

Jon made no reply. Soon, Morbo grew tired of his taunts and left Jon to the creaking silence of his cell. He understood why the rider hated him, but there was also some strange loneliness in the man’s need to snipe at him.

The others were poorer company, Jon supposed. One was a wildling Hornfoot man by the name of Thyyck who spoke maybe three words of Common and none of Valyrian. A hulking man with tiny black eyes and blue tattoos snaking down his arms, Thyyck in Morbo’s words was ‘worm-meat.’

Two brutes, tall with shaved heads and pierced noses, Morbo called the Twins, though by Jon’s estimate they were not related. The Twins were Morrgys’s hands, eyes, and whips. Foremen, of a type. One doled out their porridge and the other was their masseuse at the end of the day. A master, two foremen, plus the crew and captain of The Tears. Weapons were locked up, the deck patrolled. Each slave was stripped to the skin for inspection before they could bathe after training. Even the drinking water was under lock and key, all to deter mutiny. Four others trained under Morrgys at different intervals, so Jon saw little of them. One was squat and bearded, Norvoshi, if Morbo was to be believed. Two more were water dancers from Braavos, and the last a Dothraki from another khalasar.

So the days and weeks bled together.

Jon woke to the heavy tread of sailor’s feet on the deck overhead. He sat up, stretching aches from his muscles. Blearily, he realized the sun was fully risen. There was no porthole in his cell, but the air was warmer, and gods, was that the call of birds? His heartbeat quickened. Land. Were they near a port? Why hadn’t he been woken? The master was a creature of habit, a slave to routine. Had Morrgys had an apoplexy in his sleep? The gods would be too kind to the likes of him were it so. Jon stood to peer beneath his door. Sure enough sunlight peeked through the boards. Jon waited. Time dilated. Jon paced. They were heading south under a strong wind. He unfurled a map in his mind’s eye. South from Eastwatch-By-The-Sea was the wide mouth of the Shivering Sea, then the Neck, the Vale of Arryn. And to the east . . . Braavos!

“That’s it,” Jon said aloud. A slaver’s ship would have to tread carefully around that particular Free City. Founded by escaped slaves, there was little Braavosi despised more. Jon was tempted to scream and beat at the walls of his cell. It was a fool’s fond hope, though. If a Braavosi patrol ship was within range, Morrgys would loose his slaves, fodder for a bravo’s blade. Not to mention, Morrgys was an experienced slaver. Corrupt as wormwood and crueler than Maegor, but he wasn’t stupid.

Faintly, Jon heard the creaking song of the oars and the sonorous beat of the drum marking the time. Time stretched on. Jon sought his usual tricks of distraction: reciting histories, houses, banners, and songs. He exercised to burn away the jitter of drawn nerves. It helped. A bit. The light waned. His throat burned with thirst.

At last the door opened to admit one of the Twins. His bald pate gleamed in the blinding sunset light streaming in behind him. Jon crouched, waiting in silence.

“Eat,” he said, in heavily accented Common. A wooden tray landed with a rattle followed by a waterskin on the floor. The lock screeched shut behind him, trapping Jon in silence and darkness once more. He groped in the dark for the food, scooping cold mutton porridge with his bare hands, gulping gratefully from the waterskin. If they were close to Braavos, it wouldn’t be long until they reached Pentos. Once they landed, he’d face his first real fight.

Day Eighty-Nine: The White Wolf

Pentos assaulted his senses as Morbo and the Twins dragged him in irons off the ship. The sweaty press of the throngs, eyes gawking as fresh slaves staggered on solid ground. It felt as if the sea still pitched beneath him. The length of chain between his feet made for a short, choppy stride. He reeled into one of the Twins, who elbowed him hard in the gut. Wheezing on thick air that tasted of sweat and dust and dung, Jon struggled against the irons lashing his wrists tight to his waist. A babble of languages washed over him, the cries of birds, the bray of donkeys, the gibber of monkeys.

The cobbles were hot beneath his bare feet, the sun beat down on his shoulders. With the Watch, he’d lamented that he’d forget what it was to be warm. It never occurred to him he might one day be too warm. I suppose I need to be more specific in my wishes. Morrgys rode ahead, swathed in the yellow perfumed silk of a palanquin. Dirty children laughed and threw clods of mud, some with rocks. Rich and poor alike sneered down their noses. Even the meanest among them was better than a slave. Shame burned in Jon’s throat. I am a free man, even though I’m a Snow. The son of Eddard Stark. Jon imagined Ghost trotting at his side, garnet-red eyes warding away the press of their stares. It helped.

The sun dipped in the sky as they wended through slums to the fighting pits and training yards. His feet blistered and bleeding, Jon hoped for the cool quiet of a cell. The gleam in Morbo’s eye told him otherwise.

“Maggots, form up! We spar.”

The shame and rage boiled up inside and he was grateful when a Twin twisted the key to unlock the manacles. Morbo tossed a long-bladed spear into his hand. The edge was blunted—Morrgys didn’t want to risk damaging his source of income—but impact could still bruise or break bones if Jon didn’t pull back. That would earn him a beating, or a week without food, but in his current mood, Jon didn’t care. The angry thing inside his chest snarled and growled. He was paired with the Norvoshi, bearded with flowing dark hair. Though older and bigger than Jon, he held the trident gingerly, the net even more so.

Jon spun the spear. He was used to shield and sword, or the bow, but training with Morbo had taught him the flexibility of a staff weapon. Jon edged in a circle to the Norvoshi’s left until the sun was at his back. Any advantage was useful. The Norvoshi gave a testing flick of the net, nearly snagging Jon’s ankle. He sidled back, holding the spear firm in both hands.

“This a fight, not a dance! Attack!” Morbo shouted.

The Twin’s whip cracked hard across Jon’s back, opening a red line of pain. He channeled the snarling pain into his mind, his hands. He charged. The Norvoshi broad face split in a smile, casting the net to snarl around Jon’s legs. Jon anticipated it. He hopped back, yanking the net from his hands and cracking the sturdy haft of the spear across his face. The Norvoshi staggered back and cried out, a couple bloodied teeth fragments dribbling from his mouth. The trident was forgotten in the sand. Fierce and hungry for more violence, Jon lashed out again, knocking his legs from under him. The blade sang, flying in an arch toward that fat exposed throat---

“Zokla timpa! Stop.” Morrgys’s voice cut through the roar of blood in his ears. Jon looked down at the Norvoshi and saw the silver in his hair, the fear naked in his eyes. Bile rose up in his throat and he choked on it, along with shame.

“Take the Norvoshi to the healer. He’ll do for the first grouping tomorrow.” A slave untangled him from the net, while another half-walked, half-dragged his opponent to the squat block of cells beyond the training yard. The first events in the fighting pits were bloodsport: men thrown in with animals or chained together to fight a more skilled fighter. Jon swallowed hard. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Morrgys would test his mettle. Tomorrow he would kill a man, or die himself.

“Morbo, call the next one. Let’s see what the Wolf is made of,” Morrgys said with that hideous oily smile.

There was little relief from the heat in the small hours of the night. His cell was stone with a shelf carved in one wall for him to sleep in. The stone radiated the trapped heat of the sun. His tunic clung to him. The scrape of boots and the clink of ringmail was his lullaby. The thick, humid air made it impossible for him to sleep. Add to that, the looming threat of the fight tomorrow . . . Jon sighed and rolled over.

He studied the pattern of moonlight pared into squares by the iron grate overhead. Gods, how had he ended up here? Three months ago, he was riding with the freefolk to learn what the King-beyond-the-Wall was planning. A year ago, he was Lord Commander Mormont’s steward, wishing to ride in the haunted forest with his uncle. I’m on the far side of the world and a slave. You may as well give me a crown of bells and call me a fool.

A pair of guards stopped on the wall overhead, blotting out the light. Jon peered up, wishing for something as small as the eating knife on his belt. That would be enough to jimmy the lock on the cell door . . .

“What’re your bets for tomorrow?”

“Vogaro lo Morrgys has many skilled fighters, he’s best of the Astapori lot. I’ve put a dozen silver on that Dothraki Gorro, another five on the Tyroshi who prefers the bravo blade—what’s his name?”

“Tycho.”

“Yes, Tycho. He might be a contender against Gorro.”

“Gorro’s gotten fat and slow. Tycho would poke him full of holes and watch the suet run out.”

“Gorro has thirty-three kills to his credit! How many does Tycho have?”

“Seven. But he’s everything Gorro is not. Young, fierce, skilled--”

“Enough! We’ll see on the morrow who has more gold, eh? The crowds are going to be thick. With all this talk of dragons . . .”

Jon, who listened intently to the talk of possible opponents in tomorrow’s matches, nearly sneered at the mention of dragons. The second guard seemed to be in accord with him.

“Sailor’s lies. You’d be a fool to believe them.”

“It’s not everyday oarsmen and merchants alike agree,” the first insisted.

“The tales are not the same. Dragons in Asshai, dragons in Qarth, dragons in Lazhar, Dothraki dragons . . . each telling differs from the last.” *

“Only in details. All speak of dragons, and a beautiful young queen.” *

Their voices faded as they moved off into the humid dark. Jon rolled over on his stone bench and turned their words over in his head. Gorro had experience and arrogance hand in hand with it, but was perhaps past his prime. This Tycho sounded like a hungry, wicked fighter.

Sleep crept over him with a thief’s stealth as he was pondering his strategy. And it was dragons that slipped through his dreams. The same sharp clarity as his old dreams of Ghost. The loss throbbed under his breastbone. Alone . . . alone . . . in the dream, he flew. On powerful wings shredding the sky into drops of dew. Empty green land stretched beneath him. Fluffy sheep grazed oblivious of his presence above them. Hunger ached in his belly, his mouth watering for charred hot flesh and thick dark blood. Green fire burst from his black-fanged maw--

“Zokla timpa! Get up!” a Twin growled, yanking on the chain that bound his ankles. Jon half-fell, half-staggered off the sleeping bench, shaking away the dregs of the dream. Part of him wanted to snarl and snap at the small pink thing that would threaten him, burn him in a halo of fire. Jon gulped in great breaths of air, focusing on the cool smooth stone beneath his battered feet.

The sky overhead was still dark, the moon beyond his sight. In the courtyard beyond his cell, he saw slaves being loaded into a donkey-drawn wagon. Jon glimpsed the squat form of the Norvoshi among them. The first events at the fighting pits began soon after dawn. From what Jon overheard, the crowds would be thick even at the early hour as spectators jostled to claim a good seat.

The Twin dragged him by his fetter along the open hall to the bathing rooms. Deep stone baths stood in two rows down a long hall. Open archways were latticed with iron bars. Chained slaves hauled hot water to fill each of the tubs. The rattle of their fetters was so familiar, Jon barely registered the sound.

“Strip and wash. The master wants you clean. That way the crowds can see the blood on you.”

Once alone, Jon peeled off the sweat-stiff brown tunic and sank gingerly into the hot water. The water rose to beneath his chin, some sloshed over the sides as he moved. A dew of sweat pearled on his brow. Gods, when had he last had a hot bath? The heat sank into his bones, making him pleasantly drowsy. Fumbling for the dish, his fingernails sank into soft soap, smelling faintly of lemon. It was a rare pleasure to cleanse himself in silence and privacy. The soap stung unmercifully in his cuts and scrapes, and the chains were awkward and cumbersome, but Jon could bring himself to care. The bath was a welcome distraction to the nerves that now jumped in his belly, now as empty and taut as a drum. Soon the Twin returned leading Morbo and one of the water dancers from the other group.

“Out,” the Twin said, with an impatient tug on Jon’s chains. Jon rose naked from the tub, to the hoots and sneers of the other slaves. The Twin’s hard gaze raked over him.

“The hair and beard are good. The master wants his White Wolf to look like a sunset land barbarian.”

Jon simply glared at him. Familiar hot hate welled up from deep inside. A barbarian to dance to their tune, to entertain with bloodsport. Naked and dripping, Jon was led to separate room stuffed with costumes. Here, a fool’s motley, there a red priest’s scarlet raiment. Odd vestments of armor were found there too—for decoration only, he was told—the crowds came for blood and blood alone. He saw a spiked bronze cap, a half helm with a fish symbol on the brow. A young male slave—Tyroshi judging by his green dyed hair—shuffled forward, armed with a linen towel. His gaze slid avidly over Jon’s body and Jon felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Jon snatched it from his hand and dried himself.

A barbarian’s costume was a white wolf skin draped over his shoulders, red paint carving to fang-like points down the sides of his face and a loincloth. No shoes. No weapons. In the yard among the others who proved their competency, Morrgys paced and preened. Each were dressed in flamboyant costumes. One of the water dancers wore a feather cloak like a Summer Islander, the Hornfoot tribesman was dressed in ill-fitting motley. Morbo wore fringed leather trousers and boots, blue paint twisting in spiral patterns down his bare arms and chest.

“A sunset land barbarian from the far north! Zokla timpa!” Morrgys said, his hand draped casually on Longclaw’s pommel. The gleam in his dark eyes was malevolent.

“Are you ready for your first fight?”

#fp37fic #jonerys #snowstorm #Gladiator!Jon #Victory is in your veins

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aion-rsa · 6 years ago

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Silver Surfer Returns to Marvel

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Norrin Radd was blasted through a wormhole in Guardians of the Galaxy, but he returns in a new Silver Surfer series.

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News Jim Dandy

Marvel

Mar 18, 2019

Silver Surfer

Donny Cates has been quietly setting himself up for a Silver Surfer book for about a year and a half now. He seeded something as far back as the start of his run on Thanos, and kept it going through Guardians of the Galaxy. And what do you know? It looks like it paid off, as Marvel announced ahead of the release of its June solicitations that Cates and Tradd Moore would be bringing us Silver Surfer: Black.

In "Thanos Wins," the present-day Mad Titan was pulled forward to help his older self fulfill his heart's desire: finish killing everyone so Death would finally like him. Of course, the last being left alive not under control of or allied to Thanos was the Silver Surfer, a fallen herald of Galactus wielding both the power cosmic and Mjolnir (and possibly the Necrosword). It turned out not to matter, though, as the two Thanii (Thanoses?) stabbed Norrin Radd through the chest, only for present day Thanos to call old King Thanos pathetic and walk away, killing his older self in an all-consuming thirst trap.

Unfortunately for him, once he got back to his own time, Gamora cut his head off. And while at the reading of Thanos' last will and testament, the Surfer, along with some of the galaxy's heaviest hitters, was sucked through a wormhole to...something. It will apparently be revealed in Silver Surfer: Black.

“When Donny Cates wrote the first issue of the new Guardians of the Galaxy series, we both agreed that Silver Surfer’s adventure wasn’t going to end there, that there was still more story to be told about what happened to all the cosmic heroes that got sucked into the Black Order’s wormhole," said series editor Darren Shan. "But Donny’s imagination really kicked into gear when artist Tradd Moore signed on! Readers won’t realize it, but Silver Surfer: Black is a culmination of everything Donny has been writing since his Thanos run. And Tradd Moore is delivering some of the craziest visuals seen in a Marvel Comic today!"

Moore (The New World, Ghost Rider) is an interesting choice for the book. His design sensibility skews weird in a Mike Allred-esque way, while his figure drawing is impressively varied. Sometimes his art looks like Erica Henderson did acid, while sometimes it looks like Jim Steranko doing a Legend of Korra comic. It's pretty fun, honestly.

In addition to his work on Guardians and Thanos, Cates is filling in backstory for the symbiotes and Eddie Brock over in Venom and having the time of his life in Cosmic Ghost Rider. This book is shaping up to be as entertaining as the rest of Donny's body of work. For more on Silver Surfer, Cosmic Ghost Rider, the good Guardians, the evil Guardians, Starfox, Thanos, or Mentor, stick with Den of Geek!

from Books https://ift.tt/2uf0h7G

#aion-rsa #Books

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myth-lord · 8 years ago

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In the long list of monsters you posted there are some groups that I don't understand... why the lich is with the fext? Can you explain some of the groups you brought together?

Hey, first of all sorry for the late reply, but I decided to make it a longer answer, but I do hope I understood your question right. I think you were referring to this post: http://gancanagh22.deviantart.com/art/Huge-List-of-Monsters-from-Mythology-Cryptid-Folk-676838454?ga_submit_new=10%3A1493890073&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1 (I put on the Deviant-link as that is more up to date and easier to correct)

All the groups I put together are of creatures I think are similar in behavior, looks or just put together with other creatures created from the same animals.

These are all the groups of creatures from that post and a little explanation of why they fit together in my opinion.

NOTE that they are mythika’s versions, not the real myth in many cases.

Abaia + Inkanyamba = Giant lake eel monsters.

Acheri + Drekavac = Undead disease-spreading children.

Adaro + Zitiron = Merfolk with marlin/swordfish features.

Afanc + Bunyip = Beaver chimerae with reptilian/dragon features.

Aghash + Isitoq = Beholder-like eyeball and sight monsters.

Ahuizotl + Ugjuknarpak = Otter/Dog/Monkey hybrid lake-monsters with something on the end of their tails.

Akaname + Palis = Aberration humanoids with a very long tongue.

Alicanto + Stymphalides + Asipatra = Caracara birds with sharp metallic feathers.

Alraune + Abere + Lorelei = Flower/Plant monsters that grow humanoid lures out of their core to lure humans close.

Amphiptere + Peuchen + Quetzalcoatl = Winged, feathered serpents/snakes.

Ankou + Grim Reaper = Both powerful humanoid skeletal undead with scythes and death-abilities.

Aswang + Manananggal + Berbalang = Ghoulish, undead demons that can separate from parts of their own bodies.

Automaton + Celedon + Khalkotauroi + Talos = Metallic/Iron Golem like creatures.

Banshee + Limos + Pesta + Nemain = Death-wailing female ghost, each of them connected with a different Horseman of the Apocalypse.

Barghest + Cadejo + Gwyllgi = Undead shadow-based Mastiff dogs.

Basilisk + Xhumpedzkin = Eight-legged reptilian drakes with gaze attacks.

Baykok + Mokoi = Undead hunters that hunt for powerful creatures.

Belliegha + Marabbecca + Mhalla = Monstrous aberrations that hunt from water wells.

Berserker + Ulfhednar + Svinfylking + Einherjar = Feral war humans wearing beast skins and with animal-like abilities. Einherjar are the spirits of all types of Berserkers that got ressurected by Valkyries.

Black Annis + Utlunta + Graeae + Rangda = Hag monsters.

Blemmyes + Xing Tian + Kabandha = Ogres without a head but with their face inside their torso.

Bouda + Psoglav = Hyena-men much like Gnolls.

Brobinyak + Sarkany = Half dragons and half ogres, much like humanoid dragons.

Brollachan + Deogen = Mist or fog based monsters, living fog monsters.

Brucha + Pelesit + Apocalypse Locust = All locust monsters that work for the Horseman of Famine.

Burrunjor + Kasai Rex + Odontotyrannos = All Theropod (Allosaurus, Carnotaurus, Tyrannosaurus Rex) like monsters.

Cacus + Surtr = Giant and Titan with the fire subtype.

Cagn + El Tunche = Mantis monsters.

Caleuche + Naglfar = Ghost Ships.

Cat Sith + Nekomata + Cath Palug + Kasha = All fae-based cat monsters that can walk like humanoids, with two tails and powerful magical abilities, loved as familiars by evil spellcasters.

Cecaelia + Scylla = Both merfolk with octopus features.

Centaur + Onocentaur + Anggitay + Ichthyocentaur = All humans with the lower-bodies of horse-like creatures.

Cerastes + Vritra = Both desert snakes with drought powers and venom that creates extreme thirst.

ChonChon + Leyak = Flying head monsters.

Cockatrice + Aitvaras + Liderc = Mixes roosters with reptilian/dragon parts and dangerous touch-curses.

Cyclops + Tartalo + Papinijuwari + Bungisngis = All cyclopean (one-eyed) giants that herd other creatures/victims like a herd of sheep.

Deathcrawler + Con Rit + Bedudu + Omukade = Horrifying monsters based on centipedes.

Dijiang + Hundun = Bizarre beasts of pure chaos.

Dipsa + Amphisbaena + Hypnalis + Haermorrhois + Seps = Small or medium sized serpents with very dangerous, powerful and magical venom, with bizarre effects.

Dobhar-Chu + Atunkai = Creatures based on otters.

Doppelganger + Fetch = Humanoid, alien-looking shapeshifters that can take any medium/large-sized humanoid forms.

Dorotabo + Obambo = Undead mud elemental creatures, of corpses that were left to rot in dirt or mud.

Dryad + Askafroa + Batibat + Yanagi Baba = All female fae that are bound to a magical tree and which protect nature, two are corrupted Dryads that lost their tree.

Dullahan + Death Coach = Both headless elf riders.

Dvergr + Dactyl = Evil dwarves with good smith skills.

Ebajalg + Hala + Seitaad = Whirlwind or Hurricane based elementals.

Eloko + Tikoloshe = Jungle dwarves that eat flesh, which can enlarge their mouths and which have plant-growth over their bodies.

Emela Ntouka + Behemoth = Giant prehistoric rhinoceros-like beasts.

Erlking + Bergkonge + Lausks + Wild Hunt = Powerful male elves that each have their rule over a certain season, summon, winter, autumn and spring.

Erymanthian Boar + Bonguru + Babi Ngepet + Torc Triath = All giant dire boar monsters.

Eurynomos + Pishacha = Both black underworld demons with scavenger attitude.

Fachen + Abaasy = One legged and one armed horrors with disgusting behavior and feeding habits.

Fext + Lich = Both very powerful almost indestructible undead monsters which soul is bound to a box or weapon, and the only way to kill these creatures is to destroy this item.

Gambo + Mahamba = Both mosasaurs, one being like Tylosaurus and one like Liopleurodon/Cronosaurus.

Gargoyle + Grotesque + Sessho-Seki + Gargouille = All statue-like monsters made from rock and animated by magic.

Garm + Orthrus + Cerberus = Hellhounds with multiple heads, spare for Garm, which has a single head.

Gashadokuro + Mekurabe = Large swarms of bones (or skulls) that cling together and which can take many forms.

Gbahali + Tizheruk = Crocodilian monsters with perfect camouflage/invisibility abilities.

Gegenees + Virabhadra = Giant and titan with multiple arms.

Girtablilu + Serket = Half humanoid and half scorpion.

Globster + Swamfisk = Aquatic ooze monsters.

Goblin + Chaneque + Bugbear + Nuno + Likho = All goblinoid, sneaky small humanoids with murderous and cruel behavior.

Golem + Wulgaru + Pua Tu Tahi + Nargun = Golems created from all type of materials, more creatures could fit into this group, like the scarecrows, automaton and puppets.

Gorgon + Stheno + Euryale = All medusa-like creatures with deadly gazes.

Gray + Rake + Annunaki = Very intelligent grey-skinned aliens that love to experiment on other creatures, create worlds or destroy life.

Griffon + Keythong + Sak + Axex = Chimerae that combine the features of feline beasts and avian creatures, very proud and arrogant behavior.

Gulon + Taotie + Bandersnatch = Wolverine type monsters with enormous appetites and links to gluttony.

Harionago + Futakuchi-Onna = Female ghouls with animated hair they use to capture prey.

Harpy + Ekek + Fury + Alkonost = Half female humanoids and half birds, all with voice-based abilities.

Hinqumemen + Umibozu = Enormous water elementals the size of an entire lake.

Hodag + Gowrow = Medium sized wingless dragons/drakes with horns and tusks.

Hydra + Herensuge + Orochi = Multi-headed snake/dragon monsters.

Ichneumon + Hydrus + Leontophone = Small mongoose/badger-like critters that hunt for much bigger prey like dragons or monsters.

Imp + Grindylow + Gremlin + Ukobach = Small demons that love destruction and are wanted by evil Warlocks as familiars.

Incubus + Alp + Cambion = Male demons that haunt the dreams of their victims, Cambion is the result of the mating between human females and incubi, they look like the pretty incubus you often see in pictures.

Indus Worm + Ice Worm = Giant white aquatic worms.

Ittan-Momen + Boroboroton = Both animated objects that resemble cloth and which love to strangle their prey.

Jba Fofi + Anansi + Akanan + Tsuchigumo = All based on magical giant spiders.

Jenglot + Tupilaq = Monster based on animated puppets.

Jinmenju + WakWak Tree = Tree monsters which fruit resembles heads or which becomes human-like minions for the trees when they ripen.

Jorogumo + Arachne = Half spider and half attractive woman.

Jotunn + Ymir = Giant and Titan with ice based abilities and looks.

Jubokko + Waldgeist = Undead tree monsters which drink blood or spirits.

Kamikiri + Amikiri = Both crustacean like humanoids that love to shred things with their pincers.

Kampe + Sybaris = Centaur-like creatures, half female humanoid and with a dragon lower-body.

Kappa + Suiko = Both chimerae with turtle and monkey features.

Kapre + Yehwe Zogbanu = Both jungle giants with bark-like skin.

Karkadann + Bo + Indrik = Very powerful, large and aggressive unicorns.

Karkinos + Heikegani + Traicousse + Ushi Oni = All monsters based on crabs.

Kelpie + Ceffyl Dwr + Each Uisge = Three water horses with the same kind of behavior, luring other creatures into traps.

Kludde + Simurgh + Zburator = Winged, flying wolves.

Knucker + Ninki Nanka + Mokele-Mbembe = Carnivorous Sauropod-like dragons.

Kobold + Karzelek = Both gnomes with earth elemental-based abilities.

Kongamato + Ropen = Both pterosauriers with monstrous attitude and appetite.

Kraken + Lusca = Enormous squid monsters.

Kumiho + Nogitsune = Nine-tailed evil foxes, both of them can’t transform into humanoid form in Mythika.

Lamia + Python + Naga + Echidna = Half woman and half serpent, all have some trouble with children, one eats them, others kill them on sight and still others give birth to countless monstrous children that work for them.

Lechuza + Strix + Golfu = Giant Owl based monsters.

Leprechaun + Clurichaun + Gancanagh + Far Darrig = Very small humanoids all wearing their own color, hats and having their own magical sweat that changes creatures behavior when they inhale/smell it.

Leshy + Korrigan = Male dryad-like creatures with large plant-like beards.

Linnorm + Nidhogg + Fafnir = Primal wingless dragons which curse you when you kill them.

Makhai + Geryon = Multi-bodied Siamese-twin like demons of war.

Mandragora + Devalpa = Root-like plant creatures that are shaped like small humanoids.

Manticore + Sphinx + Piasa = All share a human face, lion-like bodies and wings, in Mythika the Piasa is the result of a Manticore raping a Sphinx.

MbieluMbielu + Muhuru = Both stegosaurus-like creatures with wicked moss/algae- parasites growing on their bodies which control them to protect the area against intruders.

Minotaur + Sarangay + Erchitu + Arzshenk = Half bull/bovine creatures and half humanoids.

Mishibizhiw + Orobon = Both underwater feline/panther creatures.

Mngwa + Nue = Both shadow-based feline monsters/tigers with similar abilities.

Morgawr + Mamlambo + Ogopogo = All based on the Monster of Loch Ness or Plesiosaurs.

Moroi + Mormo + Jiangshi + Vetala + Nelapsi = All humanoid vampires, some pretty people vampires, some very horrid and ugly ones.

Muirdris + Amhuluk = Both aquatic mutant dragons that disfigure other creatures into mutants with their abilities.

Mulilo + Lou Carcolh = Giant monstrous Slug based monsters

Mummy + Petsuchos = Ancient undead covered in mummy wrappings.

Musimon + Barometz = Ram/sheep based monster with enormous horns and aggressive attitude.

Nagual + Bush DaiDai + Tezcatlipocao = Panther/Jaguar men/women.

Narcissus + Fossegrim + Katsura-Otoko = Very beautiful and vain male nymphs.

Nemean Lion + Nian = Lion-based monsters with very tough hide that is almost impossible to penetrate.

Nependis + Ga-Gorib = Gorilla Ape like monster with boar tusks and features.

Nosoi + Pandora Box = Both trap-chests which release monsters into the world when you open them.

Nuppeppo + Dheeyabery + Nurikabe = Flesh-like ooze monsters that can take other shapes to lure humans or to block their paths.

Olitiau + Camazotz = Giant bat monsters.

Onikuma + Malebete + Otso = Magical bear monsters.

Ovinnik + Bodach = Both house spirits with fire and ash abilities.

Pard + Zheng = Both cheetah/panther like creatures with extreme speed.

Phoenix + Psonen = Both elemental bird monsters with reincarnation abilities.

Phooka + Tooth Fairy + Spriggan + Ishigaq + Danthienne + Attorcroppes = All evil small pixie/fairy like creatures that like to toy with their prey before they kill it.

Pixiu + Haetae = Beast like animated statues that swallow their prey whole and transport it into another dimension or time.

Planctae + Symplegades = Both rock elementals that crush their prey to pulp.

Poltergeist + Inugami + Wraith + Dybbuk = All spirit creatures that can possess objects or other creatures and control them like puppets.

Punga + Vatnsandi = Creatures based on Ray/Manta’s.

Ratatoskr + Nodeppo = Both very deceptive and evil squirrel monsters that use gossip, illusions and lies to bring destruction.

Redcap + Ly Erg = Well in Mythika the Ly Erg is a Redcap that murdered more than 1000 victims. Both are fae based on violence, battle and murder.

Reptoid + Intulo + Lunwaba + Atosis + Sobek = All types of lizardmen, combining reptilian and human features.

Roc + Aetos + Thunderbird + Ziz = All gigantic elephant-or-bigger sized birds of prey.

Rokurokubi + Taka-Onna = Both hags/witches that can stretch their body parts in bizarre ways.

Rougarou + Adlet + Anubite + Vrykolakas = Werewolves, Lycanthropes, half human and half canine creatures.

Rusalka + Undine = Water nymphs and elementals, when you kill the Rusalka it will turn into the fully water elemental Undine.

Satyr + Faun + Huay Chivo = Half fae elves and half goats with mostly musical abilities.

Scarab + Khepri + Jinshin Mushi = My collection of beetle-like monsters.

Scorpios + Sandwalker = Scorpion monsters.

Sea Serpent + Haietlik + Cirein Croin + Bakunawa + Jormungandr = Sea Serpents with all their own powers and abilities.

Shachihoko + Kun Peng = Both fish monsters based on the Goliath Tiger Fish or Piranha’s.

Shellycoat + Arragouset = Both bogeymen that use shells as clothes or weapons.

Shtriga + Itzpapalotl = Giant magical moth/butterfly monsters.

Shurale + Mahaha = Both insane ever-laughing demons with long fingernails and the ability to tickle a victim to death.

Sianach + Anhanga = Both evil, magical carnivorous stag monsters.

Skinwalker + Firbolg + Raven Mocker = Magical shaman humans that wear animal pelts and which can transform into a hybrid of human and beast and into an animal.

Spartoi + Bloody Bones + Ahkiyyini + Machukuna = Mythika’s humanoid skeleton undead collection.

Stella + Decarabia = Giant, magical Starfish monsters.

Stray Sod + Fear Gorta = Evil plant monsters with cursed grass growing on their backs, stepping on this grass will curse the victim.

Succubus + Empusa + Lilim = Very attractive female demons that seduce male prey.

Svartalfar + Springheel + Fear Dorcha + Dalaketnon = Mythika’s variants of Drow/Dark Elves.

Tatty Bogle + Cucay + Bubak = Scarecrow monsters, all created by hags.

Tengu + Daitengu = Raven material artist humanoids.

Thriae + Ah-Muzen-Cab = Half bee and half humanoids.

Tiddalik + Aglebemu + Heqet = Giant frog monsters that spit water/poison/sand at their prey.

Tiyanak + Myling + Toyol = Freaky humanoid babies with demonic/undead behavior.

Troll + Berberoka + Ettin = Fae giants with mostly green skin and extreme regeneration abilities.

Trolual + Cetus + Leviathan = Evil whale based monsters.

Tuyango + Makalala + Basan = Giant prehistoric terror bird monsters.

Valravn + Peryton + Nachtkrapp = Monsters based on ravens and crows, they all crave for the hearts of living creatures.

Veela + Sylph = Air nymphs and elementals, when you kill the Veela it will turn into the fully air elemental Sylph.

Veo + Dingonek = Pangolin type critters.

Vodyanoi + Bolotnik + Cipactli = Half humanoid and half amphibians, frog, toad and a combination of both.

Warg + Amarok = Fenrir = Much like D&D’s winter wolves, pure white wolves of different sizes and the elemental ice.

Weewilmekq + Burach Bhadi + Tlanusi = Giant leech based monsters.

Will o Wisp + Santelmo + Adze = Undead light elementals that lure other creatures into traps so they can feed on their fear or blood.

Wyvern + Vouivre + Guivre + Snallygaster + Cuelebre = All look like wyverns, so they have wings and legs but no arms.

Xiao + Ahool = Both are flying,winged monkeys which love to steal items.

Yagim + Akheilos + Tiburones + Taniwha + Isonade = All are monstrous sharks with bizarre abilities or looks.

Yale + Parandrus + Entulla = Antelope fae close to nature’s wildness with impressive horns.

Yowie + Yeti + Fear Liath + Genderuwo = Evil variants of the Bigfoot/Sasquatch.

Yuki-Onna + Ame-Onna + Snow Queen = Undead women spirits with water/ice based abilities.

Zaratan + Aspidochelone = Giant turtle monsters with a landscape on their shells to lure prey with.

Ziphius + Tsemaus + Sverdhvalur = Whale and Orca like creatures with a very sharp beak and dorsal fin.

Zlatorog + Bocanach = Both are goat-like monsters with magical blood which spawns magical flowers.

Zmey + Balaur = Sin-based multi-headed dragons, each head represents its own sin.

Zombie + Nachzehrer + Gaki + Legion = Walking dead, walking corpses, ghouls and zombie types.

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jenniferasberryus · 5 years ago

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Morbius: Jared Leto's Spider-Man Movie Explained

Most of the time, vampires are the villains in Hollywood movies. They're portrayed as soulless bloodsuckers who pose an existential threat to all humanity. But sometimes even a vampire can be a hero. That's the case with Morbius, a Marvel hero who's set to be portrayed by Jared Leto in Sony's upcoming Spider-Man spin-off movie. Now that the first trailer for Morbius has arrived and revealed an unexpected Spider-Man connection, here's everything you need to know about the man they call "The Living Vampire."

Morbius Explained: The Basics

Dr. Michael Morbius was a respected biochemist suffering from a rare and fatal blood disease. Desperate for a cure, Morbius performed dangerous experiments on himself using vampire bat DNA and inadvertently transformed into a "living vampire." While he wasn't actually bitten by one of the many vampires that live in the Marvel Universe, Morbius' condition has many of the same symptoms. He has a never-ending thirst for blood and must forever live apart from human society. [ignvideo url="https://www.ign.com/videos/2020/01/13/morbius-official-teaser-trailer"] Despite the cruel hand life has dealt him, Morbius does his best to use his knowledge and his vampiric abilities for good. He's proven himself a hero many times over, both as an ally of Spider-Man and a member of teams like the Midnight Sons. But even so, his dark side always threatens to consume him.

Morbius' Powers and Abilities

Though Morbius isn't a vampire in the traditional, supernatural sense, he has many of the same abilities. He possesses superhuman strength and speed, limited flight and the ability to hypnotize others. He also has a Wolverine-like healing factor that allows him to recover from otherwise fatal wounds. Morbius can sometimes infect his victims with "pseudo-vampirism," though this only happens in rare cases. Morbius also possesses some traditional vampire weaknesses. He has a constant need for human blood, a need that he does his best to satisfy through the use of serums rather than taking human victims. Morbius has developed a special formula using Spider-Man's blood that quenches his thirst for longer periods of time. His skin is also susceptible to burning in daylight, though not to the extent of most vampires. Morbius also lacks traditional vampire weaknesses to crosses, garlic, holy water, etc.

Morbius: Origin and Background

Morbius was created by writer Roy Thomas and artist Gil Kane and debuted in 1971's Amazing Spider-Man #101. That issue was actually the first not to be written by co-creator Stan Lee.

The character was conceived after the Comics Code Authority lifted certain restrictions on the use of vampires and supernatural creatures in comics. Morbius' status as a "living vampire" both made him unique and helped make him more marketable as a hero. The character was inspired by Thomas' love of classic science fiction films, while Kane specifically modeled Morbius' appearance on actor Jack Palance. Initially, Morbius was cast as a tragic villain figure. His own story became intertwined with that of the Lizard, another Spider-Man villain who inadvertently transformed himself into a hideous monster while trying to cure a physical ailment. However, it wasn't long before the character branched out on his own. He became a recurring player in '70s-era anthology series like Vampire Tales and Adventure Into Fear. The latter series established Morbius' long-standing feud with the vampire hunter Blade. [widget path="ign/modules/recirc" parameters="title=Explained!&type=articles%2Cvideos&tags=explained-recirc&count=6&columnCount=6&theme=article"] It wasn't until 1992, though, that Morbius gained his own solo series in Morbius the Living Vampire. That series was one of several supernatural-focused books to launch out of a crossover called "Rise of the Midnight Sons." During this period, Morbius' adventures became closely intertwined with those of supernatural heroes like Ghost Rider, Hellstorm, Jennifer Kale and Werewolf by Night. Following the end of Morbius' solo series at issue #23, the character continued to play a recurring role throughout the Marvel Universe. For instance, he appeared in Marvel Zombies 3, working alongside other heroes to prevent his universe from becoming infected by the zombie plague that had ravaged other universes. He also appeared in a Punisher storyline called "Frankencastle," where he helped bring the Punisher back to life as a Frankenstein-like beast following the character's fatal clash with Daken.

More recently, Morbius played a pivotal role in writer Dan Slott's Amazing Spider-Man run, where he was revealed to be secretly working at Peter Parker's new place of employment, Horizon Labs. Amazing Spider-Man and Superior Spider-Man paved the way for another short-lived Morbius comic in 2013, written by Joe Keatinge and drawn by Rich Elson.

Morbius: Beyond the Comics

Given his vampiric trappings, Morbius has proven to be a difficult character to adapt to Marvel's other multimedia projects. The character made his animated debut in 1994's Spider-Man: The Animated Series (voiced by Nick Jameson), where he was depicted as a scientist transformed after being bitten by a vampire bat that had drank Spider-Man's irradiated blood. Because of strict censorship standards, this version of Morbius was only allowed to be depicted as draining blood through suckers on his hands, and his dialogue emphasized his need for "plasma" rather than blood. [caption id="attachment_1983533" align="aligncenter" width="702"] Morbius gets a "family-friendly" animated makeover.[/caption] Morbius later appeared as a recurring character in the animated series Ultimate Spider-Man vs. The Sinister Six (voiced by Benjamin Diskin), where he was re-imagined as a Hydra scientist who specializes in symbiotes. Morbius eventually transformed into his living vampire form on the series, with the main difference being that he absorbed the life force of others rather than consuming blood. Morbius has appeared in several Marvel video games, including as a supporting character in 1993's Maximum Carnage (based on the comic book storyline of the same name) and certain versions of 2007's Spider-Man 3. He's also appeared as a playable character in Marvel: Avengers Alliance, LEGO Marvel Super Heroes 2 and Marvel Super Hero Squad Online. [widget path="global/article/imagegallery" parameters="albumSlug=a-visual-history-of-spider-man-costumes&captions=true"] Morbius has yet to appear in live-action form, though there have been rumors of a Morbius movie for most of the last two decades. At one point the character was considered for the lead villain role in 2002's Blade II. In fact, an alternate version of the ending for the first movie features a masked character who was intended to be revealed as Morbius. Instead, the character will make his film debut in Sony's upcoming Morbius movie. Jared Leto has been cast as Dr. Michael Morbius, with Daniel Espinosa directing and Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless penning the screenplay. The movie is presumably set in the same shared universe as 2018's Venom and its 2020 sequel. Thanks to the first Morbius trailer and a cameo appearance from Michael Keaton's Adrian Toomes, it appears all these movies are now taking place within the Marvel Cinematic Universe (albeit their own, private little corner). We'll no doubt learn more about Morbius and Venom's connection to the wider MCU when the film hits theaters in July 2020. [widget path="global/article/imagegallery" parameters="albumSlug=morbius-trailer-58-images-from-the-jared-leto-marvel-movie&captions=true"] For now, check out our exclusive interview with Leto for his thoughts on this iconic Marvel anti-hero. [poilib element="accentDivider"] Jesse is a mild-mannered staff writer for IGN. Allow him to lend a machete to your intellectual thicket by following @jschedeen on Twitter, or Kicksplode on MyIGN. from IGN Video Games https://www.ign.com/articles/morbius-movie-explained-who-is-jared-letos-spider-man-spin-off-character via IFTTT from The Fax Fox https://thefaxfox.blogspot.com/2020/01/morbius-jared-letos-spider-man-movie.html

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storyownedaa · 5 years ago

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WHAT IS LYDIA?

the show revolves around a group of teenagers who become immersed in the supernatural world mostly by accident. in the season one finale, a werewolf named peter hale bites lydia and changes the course of her life forever. the bite should have either killed her or transformed her into a werewolf, but neither happened. instead, she became a banshee.

banshees are creatures that predict imminent death. their scream serves as a warning to those around them that death has either just occurred or is about to occur. furthermore, lydia’s hearing is attuned to a frequency most people can’t hear. the plucking of a string or the brush of something against her skin can incite whispers that lead her towards the dead and dying. oftentimes she will enter a fugue state and find herself stumbling upon a dead body completely unbeknownst to her ( as you can imagine, it’s pretty traumatizing for a teenage girl ). most recently, she has developed the ability to shatter bone with her scream and manipulate sound waves with her body. this allows her to fight and protect herself when needed.

WHAT CAUSED LYDIA TO GO DARK?

season five was a pretty rough season for lydia. predictions of death, kanima tails creating massive wounds in her side, thousand-year-old beasts ripping her throat out, and a homicidal chimera sending her into a catatonic state? yeah, not really her idea of fun. unfortunately, things went from bad to worse when natalie ( lydia’s mother ) committed her to the psych ward at eichen house. though her intentions were probably pure, natalie’s decision nearly cost lydia her life.

many awful things happened to lydia while she was in eichen, but the most important event in regards to her canon divergent story happened towards the end of her stay. in order to amplify her powers, a man named gabriel valack drilled a hole into lydia’s temple. sounds like a great idea, right? mhm. anyway, the amplification worked a little too well. when valack attempted to place a mask on lydia’s head that could potentially kill her, she screamed. when amplified, her scream became loud enough to literally shatter bone. it actually blew half of valack’s head off ———- needless to say, he died. good. afterwards, the pack was able to rescue lydia from eichen. unfortunately, the damage was done and lydia couldn’t stop screaming.

this is where her dossier comes into place. during the time the screaming wouldn’t stop, she could be seen clutching her head and tugging at her hair. i couldn’t help but wonder what she heard —– what she saw. there reaches a point in the episode where she stops breathing ——– and for a moment, the boys believe she’s dead. in her main verse, she did die. for just a moment, for maybe fifteen-twenty seconds, she died. the things she saw and the voices she heard were too much for her to process, and so her mind simply…. shut down.

those few moments triggered a change. when she woke up, something dark lingered under the surface: her inner banshee. preoccupied with death and a thirst for power, her very core nature has started to overpower the human girl trapped inside. essentially, a war is brewing within her —– a war between lydia, the human, and lydia, the banshee.

HAS SHE SPIRALED OUT OF CONTROL YET?

NO? ———- my original intention was to start off with a very dark and twisted lydia. when she opened her eyes, her banshee nature had already consumed her and the murderous rampages would start right away. but, i failed to take one giant factor into consideration: stiles stilinski. stiles was there from the moment she opened her eyes (thread). when she awoke angry and intent on lashing out at the world, he reacted with careful hands and caring eyes. he didn’t shy away from her pain, but rather reminded her that she’s lydia goddamn martin and she can fight whatever darkness has her heart in its ironclad grasp. he gave her the strength to fight, and fight is what she did. for most of the year, she fought desperately against the urges suddenly creeping their way into her heart. tried to ignore the anger settled deep into her bones, not give in to the desire to craft her scream into a weapon used to incite destruction. she put up a brave fight and kept the darkness at bay the best she could, but now? now she’s slipping.

YES? ———- every day it’s a little worse; every morning a little darker —– and she likes it. for the longest time, she hated herself for it. hated that she kept wanting to give in. now, though? there’s a certain satisfaction that comes with the black anger thrumming under her skin. power like she’s never had before; an ability to do something in the face of grave danger. it’s a lethal combination for her —– the magnitude of the darkness and her almost nonexistent resolve not to give in. it’s worse in light of her recent transgressions —– the murder of a boy who threatened stiles’ life; the torture and subsequent death of peter hale. a perpetual seeking of revenge & retribution; the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the win.

ABSOLUTELY, YES ——— i’ve been writing this au for 2+ years. in my wildest dreams, i couldn’t have imagined how much s6 would change her. losing stiles to the ghost riders pushed lydia over the edge. in essence, the remaining shreds of her humanity were stripped the moment stiles was taken. his presence helped keep her stable – reminded her that she had something left for which to fight. without him, she lost all semblance of control. she went on a murderous rampage, obliterating anything & everything in her path until she could get him back. even still, once stiles was returned safe and sound, she was too far gone. lydia martin was gone. in her place, a monster.

WILL LYDIA HURT MY CHARACTER?

though lydia lacks the ability to care for the majority of people she encounters (and, thus, throws away innocent lives without a second glance or thought), i’m still more than capable of dictating what she can and cannot do. if we haven’t discussed her using her powers against your character, she won’t do it. this doesn’t mean she’s going to be nice to your character (unless the need arises for manipulation purposes), but she won’t use her scream as a torture device or attempt to murder them without your expressed permission.

#muse: lydia.#canon divergence: lydia.

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