#tribe of twisted tunnels

[redundantz]

Ancient Loz AU Story

10,000 years before the events of BOTW the Princess of Hyrule and the Hero who wields the sword that seals the Darkness first fought off the Calamity. With the help of the Sheikah, Guardians, Champions and the Divine Beasts. However, the hero and her best friend; the Prince of the Gerudo, were now missing. The only one to return from the fight was the Princess… Bloodied and bruised. She emerged from the castle alone. No longer the energetic, and free spirited person she used to be. Now, she is filled with a sole dedication to her Kingdom. But cold, and filled with deep sorrow. She orders the Sheikah to create shrines to train the next hero.They prepare the towers, store the Guardians under the castle till they are needed. Research started on the slate where it can be used for building infrastructure and even battle. Anything to help prepare for another Calamity.

The Gerudo Prince wasn't seen again and the heroes identity was forgotten But, the Royal blood of Hylia lives on….

Link is from a traveling caravan. His family has blood from the ancient Zonai tribe. He travels with a decent size troupe along with his sister, father and grandmother.

He meets Zelda during a festival where he was entering an archery contest in castletown. Zelda, who was disguised as Sheik, was also entering. She beat him at the contest(barely), but was extremely bothered by how good he was.

The festival goes on for about 3 days and at the end there is the sword ceremony where all the people coming of age(18) can attempt to pull the sword. She was presiding over it and witnessed him pull the sword and his whole life change. Not long after they meet officially and Link is appointed as her Knight; She introduces him to Ganondorf, her best friend from childhood.

And the chaos and comrade-ere ensues~

Over 3 years they travel, train, fall in love and wait for the day when the evil is supposed to show itself. With no sign of the great evil, they start to relax a bit. But that is when it strikes. Ganon travelling by himself at this time. Explores a cave in the Gerudo desert and encounters something ominous. Whispers in the dark speak to him and his fears and wants and his distaste for the King of Hyrule…. The voice is familiar, much too familiar, and before he can fight back it consumes him. When he awakes he is alone. He isn't instantly ‘evil’ but over time it twists his thoughts and actions. His closest friends and mother grow concerned. He becomes harsher and radical. Cruel. During a secret meeting with the King, Ganon assassinates him. Zelda happens upon Ganon covered in blood. She thinks he's hurt and is concerned by his behavior the past year. He snaps. He tells her every dark thing he has been thinking, and that he killed her father. In shock, and devastated, she can’t move as Ganon is about to strike her. But Link manages to get to her in time because the master sword was glowing, something he has never seen before but an instinct so old took over him. He races to escape with her. Ganon takes over the castle. But only as a steward because the King and the Princess are nowhere to be found. No one is the wiser to his malevolent plots. Yet. He knows she has to act fast since Zelda and Link escaped.

Zelda and Link make it all the way to Kakariko Village and Impa and they are all Informed that the Calamity is upon them. No one can believe it is their Ganondorf who is doing this but it is undeniable. They grieve, but they must act fast. With the help of the Sheikah they gather the guardians, monks and send word to the Races and Champions to prepare for battle. Zelda listens as Link hums an old Zonai Lullaby his mother used to sing to him. And it makes her remember something she read about. A story about there being an ancient Zonai device below the castle that would help defeat the Demon King.

Impa knows the tunnels She can help them sneak in. So they prepare to infiltrate the castle.

Under the castle they find the Zonai Artifacts that were left behind for sealing the great evil.

Ganon's followers saw them enter however and informed him. Knowing this is his chance he stops all pretenses and releases his power. Unleashing a mob of monsters and a cloud of malace into the castle and across Hyrule. But the Champions and Shekah are prepared to meet them.

Looking around for any clue. Trying to think of anything they read or that Link heard from his family that could be used to turn on the sealing jewelry. They don’t know how to activate it, but Ganon is going to be upon them soon as they had to fight through hordes of monsters beforehand.

Out of the dark behind them he emerges.

Zelda and Link manage to avoid the surprise attack. They both go on the defensive. They fight and try to reason with him. They can’t believe this is their friend, their lover. The fight is tough, because they all know each other's moves after training together for years along with the emotional turmoil. Zelda tells Link he needs to figure out how to activate the artifact if they are to succeed. She will hold him off. But by this point they are both exhausted.

Ganon manages to cut Link, spraying blood over the floor and the statue. Link falls to the floor and Ganon towers over him ready to strike him down, but Zelda blasts him away. Ganon turns his attention to her. Annoyed with her meddling and manages to land a blow on her also. Cutting the tip of her right ear off.

The statue lights up from the blood. The blood of a zonai. That  was another part of the Lullaby from Links family Zelda realizes. The Jewelry glows and expands before flying off the wrists of the statue to Link. He is surrounded by a green glowing light that blasts Ganon and Zelda back. The bands constrict around his arms and legs disintegrating the clothing underneath. He screams. Zelda watches on in horror as Link transforms before her. His skin is turning black and his bones and skin stretch until he is 6 ft tall. What did she get him into? This was supposed to help them what was happening… She is living in a nightmare. What else will she have to give up. She cries as she looks at him, feeling his pain and fear. His hair band she had given him falls from his hair. Rolling across the floor towards her. “..Zelda….” He says 

She picks up the hair band and goes to him! But he is not really responding. He is restrained and struggling within himself. His head is filled with the spirits of the Zonai he knows what he must do…he knows this is the last time he will see Zelda and Ganon. To seal the Demon King he must sacrifice himself. He says the last part of the Lullaby to Zelda and she knows. This is it. She kisses him. Though a bit strange now that he's so tall and his lips are cold. Ganon is getting up across the cavern from them, laughing. He mocks them and their weak attempts at thwarting him. One last clash. Zelda manages to get his weapon from him and Link plunges his arm into Ganons chest activating the sealing power. Glowing green. They both freeze in place and all is quiet. Entombed under the castle. The malice and monsters disappear. Zelda cautiously goes up to them. She doesn't touch them lest she break the spell somehow. The only thing she does is grab the hair bangle that fell to the floor in the final fight. It was the one from Ganon’s hair. And she left for the surface.

Alone.

Thanks for Reading! <3

[discordiansamba]

have a dump of thoughts about the mer zuko au in no particular order:

Iroh eventually told the Gaang his nephew's full history- why he was chasing Aang in the first place, and, most notably- how he got his scar. It... actually manages to somewhat improve their impression of Zuko- while also making their impression of his father even worse.

Like, they knew Ozai was evil. but wow. that guy is EVIL evil.

after her defeat at Ba Sing Se, the Earth King's generals attempt to use Azula as the grounds for a prisoner exchange... but Ozai never responds. he has simply abandoned her.

(azula does not take this news well)

(mai's uncle, however, does very quietly arrange for a prisoner exchange for his niece right under ozai's nose)

(azula doesn't take that very well either)

despite his initial resistance to it, Zuko does eventually start to actually bond with the Gaang outside of Toph. he and Katara end up with a shared interest in cleaning up the Fire Nation's many polluted rivers.

(katara and aang don't get to do ecoterrorism in this au. sad.)

azula thinks her uncle is pulling her leg when he tells her what happened to zuko... at least until she sees him for herself.

azula: uncle! you should have told me sooner. this would have fixed my mental breakdown entirely.

zuko: it could be worse. the ocean spirit could have made me a waterbender too.

katara: what's that supposed to mean?

zuko: uhhhhhh

plot twist: the guy who chased you all over the world turns out to be incredibly awkward

zuko tricks sokka into 'holding your breath underwater' contests way too many times. sokka, you're not going to win. he can breathe underwater.

aang, you're not going to win either.

zuko: wait. so if yue becomes the moon spirit if anything happens to it, will I become the ocean spirit if something happens to it?

aang: probably!

zuko: ugh.

iroh WILL be cleaning up that ember island beachhouse. for zuko's sake.

many theorize that prince zuko is afraid of the ocean after his near death experience. this is why he never goes anywhere near it.

zuko: <-----guy who will turn back into a merman if he gets wet enough

toph and aang help earthbend a secret tunnel down to the ocean from zuko's quarters at the palace. aang decides this is the PERFECT time to teach toph and zuko the secret tunnel song.

zuko: thanks, I hate it.

iroh: ...how do I explain to the palace chefs that my nephew is carnivorous now?

the palace chefs: prince zuko eats a concerning amount of fish these days. i don't believe we've seen him eat a single vegetable since he returned home.

local merman gets really into water tribe fish dishes.

yue: (complaining about hahn)

zuko: i think you should kill him

yue: that is tempting...

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Accidental Knight and the end of the world (Field of Forget-me-nots au - what if?) -PART 2!!!!

Okay, so this is a what if off of second movie of the FoF au (this post), where Barb won. This was inspired by the fic "The Beginning of the End" by AnimationFan2006 on Ao3. Pls go give it a read. I highly recommend that anyone go to look at the rest of the Field of Forgetmenots au. And I had to split it in half because I posted the first one at 2:00 am. Here is that first post!

Now on to the meat of the story.

Our survivalist group is now mostly formed, Floyd, john Dory, Bruce, Demo and Crimp have met up with Tresillo, Wani and Keith in the pop forest. After some explanations Tresillo and Keith take everyone (minus John Dory he needed to hide Rhonda and Wani stayed behind to help him get back), back to the bunker through the tunnel network. Bruce ever since entering the tunnel hadn't been able to take his eyes of Keith. His parental instincts going into over drive from the moment that Demo said who the trolling was. Bruce may have been out of the loop for a few years when it came to the royal family, he was fairly certain they were made up of warm colored trolls, but that doesn't mean he isn't horrified by the implications of why this poor little kid was on his own. Floyd is on the same page. They both start asking Tresillo questions and get the truth, which isn't any better then the misconception.

Tresillo: Keith isn't the prince. Queen Poppy didn't have any ninos.

Floyd: Then why did Demo call him Prince?

Tresillo: Because Chico was captured along side Queen Poppy, and Queen Barb is an idiota. I don't know the specifics, but his hermano was the chief of security for the tribe, and some how Chico ended up going with them.

Bruce: Wait, I get the brother going, but their parents let a child go?

Tresillo: Once more pop troll, I don't have all the details, but from my understanding, his Papi is long gone. All he had was his Hermano.

Floyd: Then where is his brother?

Tresillo: *sigh* where the all the héroes go. Keith's brother was the first to stand up to Queen Barb, and the first to fall to her song.

Both Floyd and Bruce are horrified. This poor kid probably watching his brother sacrifice himself while trying to save him. Bruce is just thinking of how all the parenting book he read telling him how harmful an upbringing without a stable family unit can be for a kid. It also doesn't help that Keith has the same hair and eyes that Bitty B once had. They both decide that they were going to keep Keith safe, and find away to help Bitty and get Keith his brother back (not knowing their the same person).

Once back in the Bunker, they loop John Dory in and they do try to approach Keith, and give him comfort. Telling him that Big brothers would always come back for their little ones.

Keith: Would you do that for you're little brother?

Floyd: Of course.

Keith: Then why can't I believe you?

Keith fully knows who John Dory, Bruce and Floyd are, and what they did. He's going to subtly twist that knife he put in their backs every chance he got. They had twenty years to find Branch, and now that he was gone they just show up at the bunker like they own the place. He's polite to Crimp and Demo, Branch taught Keith manners after all, but he's not going to be civil with Brozone. And he's certainly not going to tell them who Branch became.

During their stay at the bunker, John Dory and Demo join in on the excursions, to capture Zombies and round them up in a pen in a dark corner of the woods. While Bruce and Crimp stay in the bunker with the children, and Floyd while he recovers. This allows DJ to start to help more with the outside work. John tried to object at Keith going out with them, but he's quickly proven wrong when Keith proves to know the forest better then any of them. When John asked how Keith knew all this stuff, the trolling only ever answered, "My brother taught me." John feels very strongly when it comes to learning about Keith's brother. The whole situation kind of feels close to home. After all he was saddled with his brothers after his parent's death, just like Keith's brother, and from what John could tell, the brother did a fantastic job. Keith could clearly take care of himself, and he adored his brother, it took a very strong person to be able to raise a child like that after losing your parent. He was certainly stronger then John ever was, All he managed to do was break his already broken family apart further. Sometimes he would wonder if Keith knew that, and it was the reason why the trolling was so cold to him.

At some point, Floyd wouldn't have been able to sleep one night and He would stumble on to a Keith who had fallen asleep while working on a book. He picks the trolling up, and starts to take him to bed. Tresillo would be up and point out that Keith had been sleeping in his brothers room and gave his to the girls. Floyd would follow this information and tucked Keith into his brother's bed. He would put the book on the nightstand while tucking the trolling in and knock said book off of the nightstand as he turned to leave. Said book is a photo album as Floyd would soon learn, and landed open to a page with a single picture. A picture of Keith and an older blue troll cuddled up on a hospital bed asleep, the trolling's hair obscuring half of the older trolls face. At first Floyd just figures it's Keith and his brother, and find the photo cute...until he notices the green leafy vest on the bed next to them. And everything clicks.

Floyd runs out of the bedroom and wakes up his Brothers, dragging them to his room to show them the photo. John Dory and Bruce immediately recognizes the adult as Branch. Sure his hair was darker, but John and Clay's hair darkened as they got older. It's all just confirmed when they take the picture out of the album and flip it over, reading on the back, "Three Days until Branch can come home. Boys are celebrating early with snuggles! :] " Floyd would continue to to flip through the album, while Bruce and John spiral over this revelation. Their baby brother had a baby brother?! He was in the hospital at some point?! For what?! Who took care of Keith during that?! Grandma?! Who was the dad that Keith mentioned?! And they didn't know any of it. Eventually the older two siblings are pulled out of their panic with a shocked gasp from Floyd, who found the earlier pictures, from Branch's grey days. How on earth had they let their baby brother go grey....They spend the rest of the night just going through the album. Seeing Branch and Keith, Branch as grey, Branch missing and eye, their brother with a pink female troll, and an older troll that looks almost like a purple haired keith (they all assume that this was Branch's adoptive father, as Rosiepuff isn't anywhere to be seen).

In the morning the three of them confront Keith, they do so gently, at first believing that Keith simply didn't know about them, however they we're into a very rude awakening when Keith says, "I know who you are, I know what you did, but unlike you I know the aftermath. We're not family. Family doesn't abandon each other." And well, there's little they can do about that...other than try and make it up to Branch by protecting Keith and saving him.

Sadly, things aren't as safe at the bunker at they originally thought. The group had been capturing zombies and storing them away on the other side of the village, until they could find a cure. They didn't expect a Rock patrol to find where they were keeping the horde, and the group is forced to relocate, sealing up the Bunker so that the Rock trolls can't find it. Keith tries to get them to go to Bergentown but JOhn Dory is driving so that wasn't happening. They travel passed bergentown, and look for a place toe shelter. Rhonda needs a rest after two days of travel, and they stop at an old abandoned golf course. The kids immediatly want to check out the living horror movie place, the adults follow. DJ trips on a wire and the clown activates. Keith Marches up to the clown, little bow drawn, just like Branch would've done, much to Brozone's horror. Viva pops out giving Keith a giant squeeze, and pulls the group further into the putt putt course.

Keith doesn't like a the puttputts at first glance, they look feral like a predator and it makes him uncomfortable. He lived with a grey Branch he knows what paranoia looks like, this this was different then what happened to Branch. This was worse. He warns the other trollings and considering that Keith was a good judge of character, they take him seriously.

After reuniting with Clay, both him and Viva pull the brothers, Tresillo, Demo and Wani into a private meeting. While DJ and Crimp take the kids to get fries. Viva tries to should Keith off on to DJ, but the trolling follows them into the meeting room and remains stubbornly in his seat.

Viva: Look Keith sweetie, we're going to have an adult talk in here. You'd probably have more fun with your friends.

Keith: I'm not here to have fun, miss viva. I'm here to talk business.

Clay: Look kid, a lot of the stuff we're going to be talking about is, scary and very serious.

Keith: You want to talk serious fun boy? My family is currently brainwashed or imprisoned, I've lost my home to a maniac, and now I have to deal with people like you talking down to me, because I'm a child. I'm not here for fun, I'm here for progress.

Demo: *whispering to Wani* Are you sure he isn't the prince?

Demo's comment make's Viva ask questions, to which she learns that while Keith wasn't in fact Queen Poppy's heir, he was still the closest thing and considering that's what the rock empire believes their keeping up the ruse so that there's less of a chance they'll brainwash or kill Keith on sight. Viva is ecstatic to learn that her baby sister is alive, and grows horrified to learn that poppy's currently held captive in rock troll territory. Clay doesn't believe them, mostly it's his emotions regarding John Dory and now keith's jab that are making his judgement poor, but he convinces himself that what trolls would be hostile to them when there was bergens to worry about, and how could they trust what a kid is saying. Though, he holds himself as Demo, Tresillo and Wani's stories match up with Keith's.

After being convinced about the dangers of the Rock trolls, Clay and viva immediately make plans to go full on lock down. No one goes in no one goes out. Everyone objects to this. Wani, Tresillo, and Demo, knowing that the plan would never work with Rock troll weapons. While Keith and the other brothers want to go get Branch (one of the few things they can agree on).

Clay: Wait, wait, you just spent like the last twenty minutes explaining why these guys were dangerous, and now you want to go into their territory.

Keith: I want my brother back.

Clay: from what you told me kid, he's gone. You need to move on.

Keith: Just because your too much of a coward to get your brother back, doesn't mean I am! Then again I guess you're already used to throwing him to the bergens to save you're own skin!

Clay: what are you talking about?

Keith: You probably never cared about Branch in the first place, after all you left him to die once already.

Clay: WHO IS THIS KID?!

Brozone: *Share's glances*

Floyd: Clay, Branch is keith's brother.

Mean while in Volcano Rock City, Hickory finally found a way to make contact with the imprisoned Queen and remaining un-zombified pop trolls. He might not have been able to get to the cells himself, but he found someone who could. Jovi was a mixed troll (rock and celtic), who didn't under any circumstance agree with Queen Barb's conquest. It took a bit to convince him to help, but Hickory manages it. Being a nurse, with a family member on the medical board, Jovi managed to get clearance to access the prisons underneath the guise of mandatory check ups and patch jobs on minor wounds. When he finally opens the cell that held Poppy he was in for a sorry sight.

Poppy had been completely crushed by her imprisonment. Her home destroyed, her friends put in danger, and her family...Her dad had been turned but she wasn't sure what happened to him after that. Cooper is imprisoned like her and they weren't allow to see each other. No one will tell her what happened to Keith, and Branch...Branch was gone. The man she loved secretly had been warped away by the powercord. She saw him everyday, but it isn't her branch. Her Branch wouldn't taunt her with her failures. Her Branch wouldn't hold his own sword to his neck making threats to hurt himself, her Branch wouldn't lie about finally being happy after being turned. After a month she wanted Branch to turn that sword on her, or for Barb to corrupt her. Her color had long bled away, there was no hope in her prison.

That is until a dull blue troll with golden streaks in his hair comes to her cell. Jovi tells her everything, that keith escaped and that he nad Hickory were working on a way out of their. Poppy breaths a sigh of relief that Keith got away and she wants to believe him about the rest, she really does, but she can't. Jovi tells her it's okay, he just asks her to be ready to take a chance when the time comes.

The snack pack are a little more receptive to Jovi's news, and their ready help however they can. Even if waiting like Jovi asked is hard. Right now their trying to establish contact with outside help and that could take time. Smidge mentions that they used bloodhound beetles to send messages in the village and it gives Jovi an idea. Volcano Rock city didn't have bloodhound beetles, but they had something similar. Fruit bats could travel for miles, if given something to smell for. With a little help from a friend of his who trained therapy bat's and one of Demo's old bandanas that Hickory found they manage to send a message out.

Things at the putt putt course had been tense for the passed few days. Viva and Clay had held firm about their desicion to hunker down, and no one was happy about it. John managed to get viva to let Rhonda in but that was a small comfort to him. He feels like a sitting duck and he's not the only one, Tresillo and Wani are just as stir crazy as him. Bruce spends most of his time keeping the peace, Clay is hostile towards everyone but him and Floyd, and is letting his anger take control of his actions, John can't make suggestions because "he can't stand it when he's not in charge", Tresillo, Demo and Wani can't help because "they don't understand how things work here" DJ and Crimp don't even try. And Clay certainly doesn't listen to Keith. Bruce had been trying to get everyone to at least agree on a plan, and so far he felt powerless. Oringially he thought thagt Floyd would back him up, but Floyd was too busy trying to take care of that Keith kid.

Key work trying, Keith wouldn't let any of them near him. It hurt really, watching Floyd follow this kid around like a lost puppy. Bruce's theory was that Floyd thought he could redeem himself after failing to protect branch if he could keep Keith safe, keep his other little brother safe. Clay thought it was stupid, the kid wasn't their family. Sure he was close to Branch, that much was clear after he saw the photo album, but that didn't mean Keith was there brother. The kid didn't want to be their brother. Bruce had let Clay vent to him about all these harsh feelings, but he also made his younger brother swore never to tall Keith about them. Even if the kid hated them, he was still a kid that had lost all of his family, the last thing he needed was rejection.

Viva had tried to talk Clay into speaking more with his brothers, but she knows it's a losing fight. Viva had been talking more to DJ suki, trying to learn all about her sister, and slowly the DJ words have been getting to her. "Why don't you go get her" "CJ's mom, was my big sister, I knew I could count on her." "Sometimes family's worth the risk." It was starting to break her resolve. After all her dad had once, launched a full-blown escape to save poppy, why couldn't Viva do that for her sister. When she went to clay about it, he shut it down though, they had no way of planning such a mission. They didn't know where her sister was kept, they didn't have a way to get the team there and back, and they didn't know what the Rock trolls were capable of.

All this changes when a small fruit bat flutters into the golf course with a letter addressed to Demo.

----

there will be a part three.

[yunessa]

Owlcatober day 29: Sleep

Act 1, Before the Shield maze, BelowKenabres.

The tent the Mongrels had given Yunessa to rest in was clean, dry, and most importantly, gave Yunessa privacy. Yunessa had gratefully sunk down into a seat. There was no stretching or pushing the weariness away. The start of the day seemed like it happened months ago. Waking up from being attacked outside of Kenabres and dying, surviving a demon Lord’s attack, wandering through caves and finding an Angel’s sword. Lariel’s memories were as clear as window panes in their mind, easy to relive if Yunessa focused on them. Much like Lariel’s sword, Yunessa was somehow aware the memories would never fade or tarnish with time. It would remain until Yunessa wanted to relive it or to summon it to their hand

Inside the tent was a moss filled bed, enough clean water to wash themselves off, and the personal possessions of the mongrel kind enough to share their tent in a small basket. Yunessa caught a glimpse of a brightly colored arrow shaft among a pile of carved arrows before they removed their lute, setting it next to them gently on the ground. They should be sleeping. But to many thoughts sped through their mind, chasing away the desire for sleep with worry and twisted fears.

Beyond the tent the mongrels moved about, a low murmur of noise and sound accompanied by the crackling of fire as the tribe got ready.  Yunessa let the weariness sink into their bones, feeling relief as they let themselves remain still. It was good to have time to think, to focus and get a bit of rest in.

Safety was a lie here but it was safer than the tunnels or the city above. There were others here and they would cry out an alarmif trouble reared its head.  “I’m sorry.” Yuness murmured to the ceiling of the tent as they looked up. The words would ultimately change nothing. The people above would continue to suffer, even if Yunessa was willing to stay and fight. Some guilt gnawed at their chest for it. Being given an Angel’s sword would have been enough for any of the crusaders to cut off their own limbs or as Lann stated: tie it to their limb stump and go. 

_I don’t know any of you. I don’t want to. If I’m tied to this crusade I’ll be stuck here until I die and then you’ll all throw a few flowers on top of my grave and be done with me. Well, once you tried to see if you could pull Lariel’s blade from my corpse._ 

They’d use Yunessa until Yunessa was just a pile of meat. Something about that seemed a certainty and it drew a shiver. The crusade had been ongoing for a hundred years and was likely to continue. The many discussions they had heard from their fellow bards discussing Mendev's crusades against the World Wound suggested as much. _ Wish I'd paid some attention to those discussions now_

_Tethered. Ordered about. My lute gathering dust or decaying in a duty corner._ 

It bothered them on some level to leave innocent people when a difference could be made- but it was easy to push that aside and focus on getting out. “Get through the maze, find the kids, Help Lann. Get us all back to the surface.”

 _My freedom is not worth the shackles that helping them would be put on me._   

One concern gnawed away at Yunessa more than the rest as they set their lute down with care. More than the rest one thing concerned Yunessa and they pulled their shirt sleeves up. The wink of the chunky stone set in the bracelet greeted Yunessa as they checked the bracelet.  The cuff bracelet was wide, in a design that was gaudy with a chunky stone set in the middle. At one point the design was fashionable. Now it was gaudy, tacky like the sort of cheap jewelry sold at a stall by a greasy snake oil seller.

But for Yunessa it was the life raft they clung to. The tacky stone in the center still glowed and as long as the stone glowed Yunessa’s curse would be suppressed for a time longer. _I can’t go back to that._ Lacking the ability to understand the world, losing their reasoning and their mind- Yunessa shuddered in suppressed fear. 

“Please.” Yunessa whispered to the stone. “A little longer. Not much more.” The chunky stone in the center still looked bright and vibrant if dull. When it turned dark and lightless that meant Yunessa would need to find another priest to offer up prayers and fill it with their energy.  Only a priest had the ability to keep the stone glowing. Divine effort, magic, heartfelt prayers- whatever they did worked to keep the curse at bay. Kept the world clear and sane. 

“If it dies on me…” Yunessa shuddered. They reached out with their senses and the 'hum' of divine magic smelled like burnt sugar. "Almost to a new priest now." They promised the bracelet. It continued to glow, unconcerned. I can’t go back to what the world was. A confusing mess of scraps of memory, their sense of self gone, sanity lost. Yunessa couldn’t remember it, a blur of confusion, anger, and despair tainted the fog of the memories that had been. Recalling it pur pins and needles along Yunessa’s spine, making them shudder.

_I just need a to find a priest._ That was all. _Just a priest to do what they need to do and then bury the curse for a while longer_ The curse wasn’t something that could be fixed, they had tried. First after they had recovered and after they had parted from their Mentor. Nothing panned out.

Eventually Yunessa focused on the one thing that could be done- suppression of the curse. To wake up remembering the previous day, to remember their name or even what directions were left and right- precious things easily lost if the bracelet was dimmed and the curse crept back, insidiously killing Yunessa slowly.

More than the cold water Yunessa had washed with, focusing on the curse was like submerging in ice. Even in their new clothes the cold remained.

“Desna please.” Yunessa held their arm up to eye the bracelet, the tacky stone mocking them. As weary as they were, sleep refused to come to them now on the mossy mat that doubled as a bed. Yunessa stared at the tent ceiling, feeling the tension as their heart refused to obey, tightening and speeding up.  “Send me someone.” Yunessa muttered. “Anyone, at all. Something, anything.”

Sleep, when it did come was restless and brief with Yunessa’s nightmares a combination of angry angels, forgotten scraps, and a tension never quite. Yunessa’s hands ached from where their hands had clenched into fists and while sleep had certainly come to them, they felt stiff as if their muscles were made from wires.  

[bonefall]

Thinking about that one post about the 5000 year old teenager girl found buried with her collection of 180 sheep ankle bones but specifically the addition of how ankle bones were used as dice back then and she was a gamer.. what I'm getting at is: would clan cats make bone dice and Are They Gaming

First let me teach you a little bit about Knucklebones: The Game.

You probably know one of its variants better as Jacks, that game you play with a rubber ball and little metal spikes. There's a version of Knucklebones in nearly every culture, where the basic idea is to throw an object up in the air, pick up as many of the smaller objects as possible, and then catch the larger object before it hits the ground.

In cultures with a lot of access to livestock, usually the hand and ankle bones of sheep would be used. Places that don't have them might use rocks, seeds, shells, whatever. It was Ancient Greece that had such an extreme take on the game that it eventually evolved into dice-throwing-- a totally chance-based game where you would just throw the biggest foot bone of a sheep (the astralagus; equivalent to the talus in a human) and see how they landed.

So the girl they uncovered in Kazakhstan with the 180 sheep bones wasn't really buried "with dice," make sense? It's more like being buried with jacks. Central Asia is actually jam-packed with knucklebones-types games. Mongolian Shagai is recognized by UNESCO.

And it makes a TON of sense, because those regions are grasslands absolutely ideal for raising sheep.

SO. CLAN CATS.

There's two major considerations here;

ONE: The access to, and size of, sheep bones.

Clan cats don't kill sheep. TRIBE cats actually have access to sheep and kill one or two a year! I would actually like to give them a bunch of special uses for various parts of the sheep. I think the eagle-killing thing in canon is actually pretty ridiculous for several reasons

BUT THAT SAID, an astralagus is the size of a cat's paw.

[ID: A human holding an astralagus in the tips of its fingers.]

You'd need to play a different sort of game with this. It's more like a square softball to a cat than a little rubber ball.

Boar also have bones like this, though. A muntjac probably produces bones that are sized properly for a cat. Hares and rabbits are probably the BEST bet here though, which, somehow feels right. I'm not sure why, but WindClan seems like the gamerclan Clan that would think up these sorts of cute games.

Something about it fits their whole savvy culture, tunneling, emphasis on trade and invention pre-Heatherstar. ShadowClan and WindClan share a cultural value of innovation, but ShadowClan seems more... chemical and competitive.

Hard to explain it. ShadowClan invents flax retting and WindClan invents the drop spindle. There's overlap but it has a bit of a different flavor between them.

TWO: Range of motion

I've made BB!Cats have the same range of motion as the cats in canon, which is higher than a real cat. They're able to WEAVE, you can't do that without a basic pincher grasp. They're also able to mix herbs, wrap things up in leaves, and apply bandages.

I haven't actually given my reworked cats much more ability than they already had, I just codified rules based on what we already see.

But that said, they DO have less range of motion in their hands than humans. They have little thumbs and a better ability to grab, but can't twist their paws completely upwards. There's no way they can toss an object straight up, then catch it again.

So any games they do play would need to accommodate that. So far I've got Scratchstone, Teeterstrike, and an unnamed rhyme game. The bone game would need to look more like a game of marbles than jacks. Or, maybe more modified to accommodate swipes and strikes, somehow? Or a two-person game of catch?

Gotta think about it.

[sammyhasspammy]

Switcheroo Au: Branch

Branch was born to the previous Queen and King of the Pop Trolls. His eldest brother, John Dory, was the current ruler of the trolls, and unfortunately, soon after his coronation, their grandmother, ex-Queen Rosiepuff, got eaten by a bergen. King JD realized that they couldn't keep living like this, so he hatched a plan to escape by digging tunnels under the tree in secret. During the escape, all the brothers make it, but their parents are lost in the process. The family is torn apart by the grief of the situation. Bruce, Clay, and Floyd run away, leaving John to raise Branch himself. The prince grew up to be the most fun-loving troll of Troll Village, always planning parties and helping every troll in need, even the ones that were "unhelpable" according to other trolls, like Poppy.

He never gave up on her, even after rejecting his party invitations hundreds- no, thousands of times. During the 20th celebration of their escape, he plans to host the biggest party troll kind has ever seen despite Poppy's protests. Unfortunately, things go awry when the bergen chefs, Chad and Todd, take several of their friends back to bergen town in hopes of regaining their honor. Branch goes out to save Smidge, the veterinarian; Chenille and Satin, the twin DJs; Suki, the fashion designer; Creek, the lovable one; Guy Diamond, the businessman; Darnell, the cool one; and Biggie, the serene one. Although Poppy thinks he'll fail, she joins him anyway. On their mission, they help Gristle, the scullery maid (butler?), win over Queen Bridget of the bergens. In an unexpected twist, Biggie sells out Troll Village to Chad and Todd. Despite this, they are able to free all of Troll Village while becoming friends with the bergens. John Dory, feeling as though he was inadequate as a king, partly because he blamed himself for losing their parents 20 years ago, now crowns Branch as king now that he is old enough to rule.

Sometime later, the trolls get an invitation from the rock queen Val Thundershock who plans to take over the world. With the help of some friends, they are able to defeat Queen Val while becoming friends with her and opening up the way for the troll tribes to live in harmony once more.

A month later, a stranger interrupts Queen Bridget and Gristle's wedding. The stranger turns out to be Poppy's father who came to inform Poppy that her sister, who she thought to be dead, was actually alive but captured by the duo Veneer and Velvet. Poppy is not confident in her and her father's ability to perform a family harmony, so she asks Branch and JD if they can perform the harmony. John reveals that they're not the only family they have, and Branch finds out that he has 3 other brothers he didn't know about. They go on an adventure to find them. The first stop is Floyd who now lives among the rock trolls and is in a band with Barb (Who is Val in this au), and Riff (Who is kinda like Blaze? idk yet), with Sid Fret (who is Demo) as their manager. Next is Bruce who found love with a giant puppet lady named Brandy (his backstory stays the same cause I can't... think of anything else, but feel free to recommend ideas!). They find Clay in an old abandoned golf course as one of the co-leaders of the putt-putt trolls. He is hesitant to go and almost forces his brothers to stay, but they escape and continue on their search to find Viva, hoping that the four of them can pull it off. Unfortunately, Poppy and Peppy have a fight that leads Poppy to run off and Branch joins her. They eventually make it to Mount Rageous to find that the other brothers and Peppy were also taken hostage. They try to save them without singing but fail to. Clay eventually catches up and tries to help, but it's clear that there's only one thing that'll save their families. Branch urges Poppy to take the lead in the family harmony because he never knew his brothers, but she knew her sister. She takes the lead and they are able to escape while putting Veneer and Velvet behind bars.

Brains storm post - Poppy - Viva

More content will be posted in my #switcheroo au tag! :D Feel free to send any questions or recommendations into my ask box!

Outfit Closeups

[skyscratch-wc]

Skyfall Power of Five Outline

Okay so I think I've settled on roughly what I want to do for the Power of Three/Omen of the Stars/A Vision of Shadows mash up super-arc for Skyfall. It's called the Power of Five and is basically the prophecy, Dovewing + Ivypool, and SkyClan all rolled into one arc. Here's the gist, in a very rough, very much still a draft form:

Book 1: Heart of the River

Jayfeather's POV, aka RiverClan POV

draws mostly from The Sight, just with a RiverClan twist

focused on the clans settling down in their new home as the first generation of Lake born kits become apprentices and warriors

Book 2: Thunder's Claw

Lionblaze POV, aka ThunderClan POV

draws mostly from Dark River

focused on the tunnels and Lionpaw's struggle with identity

Book 3: Dark Wind

Hollyleaf POV, aka WindClan POV

draws on the back part of Dark River, is otherwise largely non-canonical since I ditched the Tribe and the Mountains for Skyfall

focused on Holly's relationship with her family as a set up for her discovering her true parentage later down the road. Also sets up the tensions that eventually explode in the eclipse battle.

Book 4: The Darkest Day

Flametail POV, aka ShadowClan POV

Sol comes to ShadowClan, begins whispering about a prophecy and the sun disappearing

Tensions rise and then explode as the eclipse battle occurs, the cats conclude that they have powers and begin forming friendships between them.

The clans become entangled in Sol's manipulation

Book 5: Bird Song

this book would happen roughly parallel to Books 3 and 4

Dovewing POV, aka SkyClan POV

rogues are attacking SkyClan mercilessly, resulting in several deaths. SkyClan has effectively become nomadic, wandering from home to home as they search for safety. This book sets up SkyClan's situation and introduces Dovewing as the fifth cat.

Book 6: Sun in the Shadows

Rotating POV between Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf

this book has the drought from OotS, the fire scene (just Lion this time), etc. This is the book where Jay and Holly discover their parentage, Ashfur is killed (just by Lionblaze this time), etc.

Sol is driven from clan territory for trying to manipulate and incite violence between the clans

Book 7: The Lost Warriors

Rotating POV between Dovewing, Flametail, and Hollyleaf

The four lake prophecy cats begin their journey to a) find Sol for answers and b) find the fifth cat. The succeed in finding Sol and are nearly to SkyClan at the end of the book

Book 8: A Sight of Stars

Rotating POV between Dovewing, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze

The lake four find Dovewing and help her and Ivypool gather a scattered SkyClan and bring them to the lake.

So, why did I do this?

For several reasons, I feel that the plots of PoT and OotS are dragged out and could be condensed (especially OotS) and I don't like how StarClan and the Dark Forest are the main conflict, especially since the Dark Forest's goal doesn't even make sense. Like, what are they supposed to do with the lake once they've killed the clan cats?

So, in order to make the narrative less about StarClan, to condense things, and to get us out of ThunderClan, I decided to mash up certain parts of arcs 3, 4, and 6 from canon warrior cats. The prophecy is now not about saving the clans, but reuniting SkyClan with the other clans. This gives the prophecy a reason for being, gives Dovewing's powers some real use in the narrative, and keeps StarClan out of the plot since I want to keep StarClan as an elusive force like how they were in TPB. This also helps keep the LeafCrow situation (or in Skyfall the LeafCrowMoth situation) a true B plot, rather than something that ends up taking over the narrative at the end. I think it's good drama and is good for building Hollyleaf's character arc, but it is not necessarily core plot material as it ends up being in canon.

Anyways, I might make adjustments to this in the future, but this is my current set up. Also, for those who are curious, here are the ranks each of the five end up in:

Jayfeather: RiverClan Collector

Lionblaze: ThunderClan Protector Apprentice turned Cleric

Hollyleaf: WindClan Protector

Flametail: ShadowClan Cleric

Dovewing: SkyClan Hunter

If you've got any questions, feel free to ask them! I can't guarantee I'll have a super fleshed out answer, but I'd love to answer any questions folks have about this.

[sarilolla]

Silly Trolls au idea that I might do more with (probably shouldn’t, I have a lot of other stuff on my plate lol) (Long post so more under Read More, this is just a ramble of an au honestly)

What if during the Great Escape from the Troll Tree, *Viva* had the Pop String? She was still lost along with multiple other Pop Trolls, and now her family have to deal with the loss of her, and the possible loss of ALL THEIR MUSIC

Would that mean that when they didn’t lose their music, they suspected she survived? Or at least someone else got it and there are some survivors? Or would the suspicion be that it’s buried in the tunnels to be forgotten, existing in a limbo as the Trolls are still able to sing and dance? Or maybe the Bergens got it, and they’re now finding a way to use it to make them happy, instead of eating Trolls?

Would they lose their music anyway, just from the assumption something bad happened? Would they be more open to gray Trolls, as it could be a possible after effect of their tribe being separated from the source of their music?

Would King Peppy reveal its existence to other elders, in case they lose their music and he needs someone to rely on? (Probably not, but let me imagine he has like two more brain cells and to not keep it hidden) Would the Pop Trolls know other music and Trolls were out there, but only know a false version of the story?

And then when Barb’s World Tour happens, how will that work out? Will Barb find a Pop Village without a String, and have no clue how to go from there? The Pop Trolls will be practically forced to reveal what happened to them, and how they lost so many Trolls over the years, and how it’s possible that the String isn’t even held by a Troll?

Will she go looking for this lost princess, or try to enter the Tunnels of Certain Death despite the warnings from Pop (if that’s because the tunnels are unstable, or that they haven’t befriended the Bergens, you decide)? Will she have to give up her whole tour, and now deal with the consequences of her actions?

The other tribes have to deal with the fact that because of the schism Pop caused, they lost many Trolls over the years to being eaten alive, cooked, baked, prepared in all sorts of culinary ways (headcanon that the Pop Trolls were captured for a LONG time, my own stories use 150 years at least). Obviously they didn’t deserve that, but in a twisted sort of sense, now they won’t lose their own music, since the Ultimate Power Chord can’t be completed

And then there’s Viva, probably only 12-15 years old, having defended her people, started a community, and hold the ENTIRETY of their music in her hands. Would she keep it on her at all times? Would she switch the harp/lyre for another instrument, one that’s not so suspicious? Would she find a way to hide it in Putt Putt Village, scared but content it’s the only way to keep their music safe? Paranoia says Bergen might show up, and even if she’s a happy-go-lucky Pop Troll, who’s to say someone might try to steal it? It’s powerful, honestly a weapon, it will keep her people safe and hopeful. And she promised her dad to take care of it, and she doesn’t want to disappoint. Her people’s legacy and music is in her hands, it’s a lot of responsibility. Might she even think that the other Pop Trolls lost their music since she has the String, and it’s clear they’re far away from each other. (She wishes she could share the magic of their music with her baby sister)

Anyway that was a lot of ramble for an idea that struck me 15 minutes ago

(Ps: if anyone wanna do something with this concept, feel free to do so, all I ask for is credit and to be tagged so I can see :D )

[crystal-verse]

Day 12- Quarry

[malikah's well time! a brief peek into some of k'pheli's mid-to-late shb thoughts]

Malikah's Well is a quarry long-abandoned, and yet something about it feels so very familiar to you.

Perhaps it's the deep, deep stone tunnels, the way it burrows into the very earth itself. The traces of having been lived in still linger, and that, too, adds to the familiarity. The Sin Eaters and other creatures scurrying through it take away from your focus, but you are lucky enough to have Thancred and Mehka both stealing their attention, leaving you and Urianger and Alphinaud to focus on healing them, Alisaie and Ryne and Y'shtola all focused on dealing swift deaths. The deeper you go, the more it itches at you, until you realize. Ah. It reminds you of Gelmorra. Not the lived-in Gelmorra, closer to the center of the city-state, the deeper tunnels, but of the edges of Gelmorra, where the Miqo'te third would rotate between dwellings throughout the seasons (where you would have rotated between, had you not been so ill that you'd needed to stay in the inner sections in hospitals), the K tribe wanderlust no less strong even underground.

It reminds you, more specifically, of the dwellings that are dormant, the ones not in use at the current time -- traces of life and yet so empty, so still. Plenty of things left there, but nothing perishable, nothing that will not be alright if left unattended for some while.

'Tis certainly an apt comparison -- it would seem as though time had not passed in some of the parts of Malikah's Well, some stasis from the Light seeping into here as well.

Still. You must needs focus, because you are one of three with the fates of everyone's lives in your hands, and it would do you no good to be distracted. (Beneath your skin, beneath the muscle, nestled into that spot just under the sternum, the Light burns. Not enough to be worth concern, just enough to be annoying. Each breath burns -- and the Light indeed is a very cold burn.)

The Lightwarden is soon in sight. You ready your codex. Inhale, exhale. Oberon is by your side, no more twisted by your excess Light as they had been, years ago, by your excess Dark. (Your aether, so usually astrally-aligned, is not umbral, but you inhale fire and exhale ice and the Lightwarden will fall. It will. For Norvrandt, for the night sky, for the Exarch -- you will fell Storge, and when that too is done you will hunt down Kholusia's Lightwarden and it, too, will fall, and the night sky will be upon all of Norvrand and then, and then, you shall finally be able to rest.)

Thancred readies his gunblade, Mehka her axe -- the twins their codex and rapier, Urianger his cards. Ryne's knives are held in steady hands, and though you cannot see aether in the way that Y'shtola might you are no less aware of the way she draws it into her hands, ready to unleash any spell. The battle shall be soon. (Just this, and one more. Just two more Lightwardens, and then you will be done. You can handle this. You will hold the Light. Just two more.)

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Chapter 8

Masterlist

Warning - Intense Character Death

Suddenly, a guttural scream ripped through the air, raw and full of anguish, echoing from the direction of home. The sound froze me in place, each second dragging out like an eternity. My name followed, whispered faintly, like a dying breath carried on the wind, chilling me to my core. A wave of dread surged through me, my heart hammering in my chest with such force it felt like it might break free. My body moved before my mind could catch up—what began as a step turned into a sprint, feet pounding relentlessly against the earth as I tore through the forest. Panic clawed at my insides, urging me to reach home before it was too late, but even then, I knew—something terrible was waiting. Something I couldn't outrun.

I was so focused, so consumed by the urgency, that I never even shifted into my wolf form. All I could hear was the relentless pounding of my feet against the dirt, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, and the screams—those terrible, distant screams. Everything else faded away. It felt like I was moving in slow motion, trapped in this tunnel vision of fear and adrenaline, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for whatever nightmare lay ahead.

Finally, I broke through the clearing, and the sight stopped me cold. My father lay almost lifeless on the ground, his wheelchair shattered against a tree twenty feet away. Panic surged through me as I raced to his side, dropping to my knees and sliding to a stop. Gently, I turned him over, my breath catching at the sight of his bruised and bloodied face twisted in agony. My heart sank, seeing the open wounds and broken bones that marred his body.

Tears welled in my eyes as he looked up at me. “No, no, no, no—why? What happened?” I asked, my voice breaking as I pulled him closer, desperate to hold him together.

His face softened through the pain, a faint, loving smile forming. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t let them get to Sue... She’s all the Clearwater kids have left. The vampire took off when she smelled you coming—it was that red-headed bitch.” I let out a choked laugh at his uncharacteristic language, even in this moment, and cupped his face in my hands.

“You forgot something, Dad... you were all I had left, too,” I whispered, voice trembling.

He sighed softly, his breath shaky. “I know you're upset with your mother, but... give her a break. Let her know the truth. She knows about the pack, honey. She’s born of the tribe. She can help.” His eyes grew distant, pain mixed with resolve. “I know this is it for me, but I’ll always be here. Everything you need, you’ll find in my office. I’m not really leaving you.”

I shook my head wildly, refusing to accept it. “No, Dad, you can’t die. We’ll get you to the hospital—it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay,” I pleaded, my voice desperate and breaking.

His smile turned sad as he reached up, cupping my cheek with a trembling hand. “It’s over, sweetie. She delivered the final blow.”

He lifted his wrist weakly, and my stomach dropped. There, on his skin, were two small puncture wounds—her bite. Venom. A death sentence for anyone with the wolf gene. Vampires couldn’t turn us, their venom was poison to our blood.

The crushing weight of realization hit me like a tidal wave. It was over. I couldn’t save him. No matter what I tried, this was the end.

I watched in horror as his gaze grew distant, his smile fading into something hollow. His once vibrant brown eyes dulled, as if the light of his soul was slipping away. His hand fell from my face, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that echoed in my ears like the final note of a tragic song.

“No, no, no, no—nooooo!” My scream tore from my throat as tears blurred my vision, spilling over uncontrollably. I pulled him closer, desperate to hold onto whatever life was left, ignoring the warm blood now soaking into my clothes. His head rested against my chest as I cradled him in my lap, my heart breaking into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Grief surged through me like a storm, and I let out a guttural, agonized scream into the vast emptiness, hoping against hope that the spirits might hear me—hear my cries and bring him back. The sound of my wails echoed through the forest, and everything seemed to fall into a sorrowful silence, as if even the forest mourned with me.

I could hear the others approaching, their footsteps growing louder, but I paid them no mind. Nothing mattered except the lifeless body of my father cradled in my arms. I had failed him once already, and I wasn’t about to fail him again. I would protect him, even now, even when it was too late.

Suddenly, there were voices, shouting, but I barely registered them. I felt a warm presence behind me, strong arms wrapping around me, trying to pull me into comfort. My imprint. His love was there, his warmth, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the raging storm inside me. Not now.

Another presence tried to reach me—Jasper, his power pushing calm over my shattered soul, trying to smother the grief with peace. But it was useless. Nothing could touch me now.

This was my greatest fear come to life, my deepest loss. Paul couldn’t help me, Jasper couldn’t help me. No one could.

I was lost to my instincts, the primal part of me—the alpha wolf—howling in agony. She cried for our father, furious at the failure, at not running fast enough, not catching the scent soon enough. We had failed him. We had let carelessness and weakness lead us here. The pain was suffocating, and the blame weighed heavier than anything I’d ever carried.

I sat there, the weight of my grief pressing down on me until the pain became unbearable, rising like a tidal wave ready to swallow me whole. With a shuddering breath, I pushed myself away from Paul, the warmth of his presence feeling distant and foreign. Gently, I laid my father on the ground, cradling him like the precious treasure he was, determined to preserve his dignity even in death. Every movement felt monumental, as if I was saying goodbye to a part of my very soul. When I was finally satisfied with how he rested—his features peaceful against the cruel reality of what had transpired—I turned to Carlisle.

The entire pack and coven had gathered, their eyes wide with shock and sorrow. But it was Carlisle’s gaze that held me captive; there was a flicker of recognition, a silent understanding that flowed between us like electricity. No words were needed; the depth of our shared pain spoke volumes. With a single nod, he gave me permission to unleash the storm brewing within me, silently saying he would take care of my fathers body. 

In that instant, everything shifted. I let my emotions spiral out of control, a violent tempest of grief, rage, and vengeance igniting my very being. My wolf surged forward, powerful and primal, bursting forth as I sprinted into the dark embrace of the forest. A howl ripped from my throat, raw and haunting, echoing through the trees as I ran.

My feet pounded against the damp earth, each strike a cathartic release of the anguish clawing at my insides. My breath came in ragged gasps, a frantic rhythm matching the wildness inside me as I pushed past every known and unknown limit. I was no longer just Y/N—I was a force of nature, driven by the insatiable need for justice. With each step, I could feel the world around me blurring, the pain of loss igniting a fire within my heart that would not be extinguished. I would find Victoria. I would make her pay.

I can’t believe he’s gone. My heart is shattered, and all I can think about is his face—the way he smiled when he saw me. I should’ve been there; I should’ve protected him. How could I let this happen?

I am the alpha. I was supposed to be strong, to safeguard my pack and my family. But what did I do? I left him unprotected, vulnerable. I let my guard down, and now he’s gone—murdered by that monster, Victoria. I can still smell her in the air, feel her twisted laughter echoing in my ears. She took everything from me, and I was too weak to stop her. Why didn’t I sense the danger?

No more. I refuse to let anyone I care for be hurt again. I won’t allow this helplessness to consume me. This rage boiling inside me—it's not just grief; it's a promise. A promise to my father, to myself, to my pack. Victoria will pay for what she’s done. I will hunt her down. I will make her feel the pain she’s inflicted. She thinks she can kill my father and walk away unscathed?

I am done being careless. I’m done being the weak alpha who lets her loved ones down. I’ll become a force of nature—relentless, unstoppable. The forest will know my fury. My father's death will not be in vain. Victoria will learn the true meaning of fear. I will not rest until she pays, and I will find her. I will find her and rip her apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but a memory of her twisted existence. I’ll make sure she knows who she’s dealing with. I’m not just a wolf; I’m a storm, and she will face my wrath.

Exhaustion overtook me, the weight of grief and anger too much to bear. I collapsed onto the forest floor, my wolf form trembling as I curled up against the earth, the pulse of the land beneath me offering a faint sense of comfort. The fury that had burned within me moments ago began to smolder, replaced by a bone-deep weariness I couldn’t shake. The forest around me became distant, fading as the pull of sleep wrapped its tendrils around my mind.

In the darkness of my dreams, I found myself back in the familiar twilight haze, standing in the same clearing where Calian had once walked. The ancient wolf spirit appeared before me, his coat gleaming with the same smoky grays and deep blacks as mine. His presence was calm, steady, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

"You’ve seen what loss does," Calian's voice echoed in my mind, the same voice from his journal. His amber eyes, so much like mine, locked with mine, and I felt the intensity of his gaze pierce through the walls I had built around my heart. "I know the path you're walking, Y/N. I once stood where you are now, filled with the same anger, the same need for revenge."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I just stared, my chest heaving with unspoken rage. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming yet strangely comforting.

"My best friend... the Alpha before me... died in battle. I thought vengeance would ease the pain, that it would fill the void his death left behind," Calian continued, his voice low and filled with sorrow. "But it didn’t. Revenge consumed me, blinded me, made me forget what I was fighting for. And when the blood was spilled, it didn’t bring him back."

I clenched my jaw, every muscle in my body tense with the conflicting emotions tearing through me. "But she killed him—my father. How can I not seek justice for that?" I asked, my voice a whisper, as if admitting the depth of my pain would make it real.

"Justice and revenge are not the same," Calian said softly, his figure towering over me, but his tone gentle. "You are the Alpha of Alphas, Y/N. Your role is not just to protect but to lead with wisdom. If you let this anger consume you, you’ll lose more than just your father. You'll lose yourself."

I wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words sink in, but the weight of my father’s death pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket. "I can’t just let it go," I whispered, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I’m not asking you to," he replied, his gaze softening. "But know this—revenge may feel like strength in the moment, but it will hollow you out in the end. And when you’ve destroyed your enemy, what will be left of you?"

I didn’t have an answer. The silence stretched between us until Calian’s form began to fade, his final words lingering in the air like an unanswered prayer. "You have more power than you realize, Y/N. Use it wisely."

When I awoke, I was still in my wolf form, the weight of Calian’s words pressing heavily on my mind. The cool morning air brushed against my fur, and I forced myself to stand, my body aching from the emotions that had torn through me in my dream.

I tried to follow Calian’s advice, to let go of the burning need for vengeance, but every step I took toward home was harder than the last. The vision of my father, broken and bleeding, haunted me, the memory of his final breath taunting me. The desire for revenge still pulsed in my veins, a fire that wouldn’t easily be extinguished.

Even as I returned to the others, I could feel it simmering beneath the surface. Calian's words echoed in my mind, but the truth was clear—I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally crossed back into pack territory. The air was thick with tension, the weight of my father’s death pressing down on me like an anchor. My legs moved mechanically, numb with exhaustion, but my mind was a furnace of rage, each thought stoking the flames higher. As the minutes passed, I felt the familiar tug of the mindlink—the pack had caught my scent.

In the distance, I heard their howls, urgent and sorrowful. The sound clawed at my chest, but I refused to let it break through the wall I’d built around my emotions. Soon, they arrived, their massive forms trotting cautiously toward me, the weight of their grief palpable. But I wasn’t grieving—I was burning, and the fire inside me was barely contained.

I raised my head high, standing taller and more imposing than ever. My muscles tensed beneath my fur, my posture a silent warning. I didn’t want their sympathy. I didn’t need it. I needed vengeance. They stopped short, their eyes wide with caution, sensing the storm brewing within me.

“We're glad to have you back, Y/N. And... we’re deeply sorry for what happened,” Sam said, his voice strong yet laced with sorrow. The pack’s leader, always composed. But his words barely reached me. They were just noise.

Paul approached next, his whimpering tugging at my ears as he rubbed his fur against mine in an attempt to comfort me. It only made the emptiness in my chest deepen. Their gestures of care felt hollow, foreign, like they were trying to soothe a wound that couldn’t be healed.

I had already shut down, the pain of losing my father replaced by a singular focus: revenge. My voice was low, cold, as I finally spoke. “My father will be honored in the way any historian before him was, and I don’t care what my mother has to say. I get the last word. If she dares to fight me on it, she won’t be welcome at the ceremony. He deserves that respect, after everything he’s done for me and for the tribe.” My eyes burned with a fury that wouldn’t be tamed, daring anyone to challenge me. Sam’s tight nod was the only response I needed.

I could feel the tension ripple through the pack, but I didn’t stop. My words were venomous, every syllable dripping with hatred. “And when that disgusting, red-headed leech brings her army to our land, I will be the last thing she sees. I will tear her limb from limb, and there will be nothing left of her but crumbs—crumbs to be burnt to ash.”

The fire in my chest raged uncontrollably, my wolf snarling with the thirst for blood. I could see the shock in their eyes, the realization that I was no longer just their honorary packmate—I was something darker now, something far more dangerous. The need for revenge had consumed me, and there was no turning back.

As the days passed, the weight of preparing for my father’s funeral settled heavily on my shoulders. My mother had finally been informed of his passing, but the time had come to reveal the full truth—the supernatural reality of our lives. She might have known the legends were real, but she had no idea that the pack had shifted this year, nor did she understand the depths of my transformation. It was my responsibility to explain it all, and I requested that she meet me alone at my father’s house.

Sitting at the old wooden table where we had shared countless meals, I gathered my resolve. I took a deep breath and began to recount everything—from the pack’s return alongside the Cullens, to my own transformation, to the true alpha gene that had awakened within me. I shared the extraordinary things I had experienced since shifting, the gifts and burdens that came with my new identity. Finally, I dove into the harrowing details of what had happened to my father, the events I had witnessed, and the rage that now burned within me.

When I reached the point of discussing how I intended to honor him, my mother interrupted me. “He should be buried in the cemetery, like I always wished,” she insisted, her voice rising in defiance.

I felt my blood boil. “If you really loved him like you say you do, you would understand that he would feel dishonored that way.” I met her gaze, unyielding. “You may have been able to remove yourself from the tribe easily. You may have turned your back on us and our traditions, but there’s a reason you and Father got a divorce: he could not do the same. His love was the tribe, the traditions, and especially the history. Leaving was a great sin to him, but he overlooked that for the sake of civility and for me. Yes, he loved you, but he was hurt by your choice and how easily you made it.”

As the words hung in the air, I watched her mouth close, realization dawning upon her, a subtle touch of sadness creeping into her eyes. “Even when illness racked through his body, he refused to put aside his work. His role in this tribe was his pride. I stood by him, loyal to both him and the tribe, and that made me his greatest pride and joy. I will not dishonor that privilege for your guilt and regrets.”

I stood from the table, my heart pounding in my chest as the intensity of my emotions swirled within me. “You are still welcome to participate in the ritual funeral rites. However, if you argue again, I will not hesitate to remove you from the ceremony.” I opened the door for her, my heart hardened yet aching at the same time, and I watched as she left silently.

The air felt heavy with unspoken words as she walked away, and I could almost hear the frantic thoughts racing through her mind. She was finally starting to grasp the gravity of everything I had revealed, but I couldn’t tell if it was remorse or anger that would win out. Either way, I was done worrying about her feelings. My father deserved the honor of a tribal funeral, and I would ensure he received it, no matter the cost. 

I finally shut the door behind her as she pulled out of the driveway. A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped my lips, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. My mother’s departure felt like the closing of a chapter I never wanted to write, but it was necessary. I turned and began to make my way back to my room, each step dragging the remnants of my grief behind me like a heavy cloak.

As I passed by my father’s office, something tugged at me, an invisible thread pulling me toward the door. I stopped, rooted in place, and the dull ache in my chest quickly transformed into a piercing agony. The office door stood ajar, its inviting yet forbidding presence beckoning me inside. I could still see his old, worn chair tucked under the desk, the stacks of papers he had meticulously organized, and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air—a bittersweet reminder of the man I had lost.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside, my heart racing as nostalgia and sorrow swirled together in a chaotic dance. Everything felt too quiet, too still, as if the very air was holding its breath. I moved toward his desk, running my fingers over the surface as if hoping to draw strength from it. But instead, I felt a rush of memories flooding my mind, each one more painful than the last.

The evenings spent listening to him recount the legends echoed in my ears, his voice rich and warm as he brought the past to life. But those cherished memories were now tainted, overshadowed by the harsh reality that he would never share those stories with me again. The intensity of my grief hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and threatening to pull me under. I felt the familiar sting of tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, anger rising within me. How could I allow this pain to consume me when there was so much at stake?

I opened one of the drawers, desperate for something to ground me, something to remind me of the man who had guided me through life. But the emptiness stared back at me, a hollow reminder of what I had lost. Each object I touched was imbued with memories, each one like a dagger, twisting deeper into my heart. How could he be gone? How could this be real?

“Dad,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I clutched the edge of the desk, the smooth surface feeling foreign beneath my trembling fingers. “I need you.”

The weight of my grief became unbearable, spiraling into a vortex of despair. It was like standing at the edge of a chasm, teetering precariously as the darkness beckoned me to fall in. My breaths came in shaky gasps, each one laced with anguish. I could feel the world closing in around me, the walls of his office shrinking as I was swallowed by my overwhelming sorrow.

I sank to the floor, the coolness of the wood pressing against my skin, grounding me even as the storm raged inside. My heart ached for the countless conversations we would never have, for the wisdom he would never impart, for the laughter that had filled this space. Everything felt wrong, and I couldn’t shake the sense of profound loss that threatened to engulf me.

“Why did you leave me?” I cried out, the sound echoing off the walls, a haunting reminder of my helplessness. My grief twisted into a frantic spiral, raw and unrelenting. I wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But all I could do was sit there, consumed by the void he had left behind, feeling utterly lost.

At that moment, I couldn’t see a way forward. The pain was suffocating, pressing down on me until I felt like I might break beneath its weight. I was spiraling, trapped in a whirlwind of despair, struggling to find a way back to solid ground.

The storm inside me intensified, rising to a fever pitch. My breaths became shallow, quickening as I felt the walls closing in even tighter. I pressed my hands to my chest, feeling the rapid thud of my heart—a frantic drummer in an orchestra of despair. Panic gripped me, wrapping around my throat like a vice, squeezing until my vision blurred and the world around me started to fade into darkness. I was losing myself in the whirlwind of emotions, as if I were pushing all my pain into the very air, a thick fog of grief that threatened to suffocate me.

“Just breathe,” I whispered to myself, but the words felt hollow, lost in the chaos. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, a deafening drum that drowned out everything else. The office seemed to tilt and spin, the once-familiar space morphing into a nightmarish labyrinth of memories and sorrow. I was trapped, caught in a cycle of overwhelming grief, and each gasping breath only fueled the rising tide of panic.

“Dad, please,” I gasped, but my plea was swallowed by the suffocating weight of my emotions. It felt like the air had thickened, becoming a living entity that pressed against me, a heavy, oppressive force that made it impossible to think straight. I could feel the edges of my consciousness blurring, and in that moment, I was terrified I would vanish into the darkness entirely.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and in rushed Paul, Sam, and Jake, their presence a jolt of grounding energy. The moment they stepped into the room, the oppressive atmosphere shifted slightly, their concern radiating outwards like a beacon. Paul’s eyes widened as he rushed to my side, his warm skin brushing against my trembling hands, offering a comforting warmth amidst the chaos. Jake knelt beside me, his voice a calm anchor in the storm, urging me to focus on him, to breathe with him.

“Y/N, look at me. You’re not alone,” Jake said, his voice steady and soothing, cutting through the whirlwind of my thoughts. Sam stood a little behind, his presence a reassuring reminder of strength, ready to support me in whatever way I needed.

Gradually, their collective energy began to penetrate the fog of panic. I could feel my breath start to synchronize with Jake’s, the rhythm drawing me back from the brink of despair. Paul’s gentle nudges and Sam’s steadfast presence enveloped me, reminding me that I was surrounded by those who cared.

With each inhale, I felt the suffocating grip of my grief loosening, the tension in my chest gradually ebbing away. The frantic racing of my heart began to settle, replaced by a fragile sense of stability. But just as I started to find my footing, a wave of exhaustion crashed over me, pulling me down into its depths. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, the room blurring once more.

“Y/N, stay with us,” Jake urged, but the weariness consumed me, and I could no longer hold on. My world faded to black as I surrendered to the sweet relief of unconsciousness, feeling the warmth of my friends surrounding me, a comforting cocoon that whispered I would be safe.

[gh0stbled]

𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝… 【 fka twigs //. cis-female //. she, her 】 Welcome, RYN NOIR. You have successfully been loaded into The Hub. According to our records, you are THIRTY-SIX and have held citizenship for TWENTY-ONE YEARS in the barrier city, Neo California. Your key attributes have been identified as VERSATILE and INSOLENT. Please confirm your CHAOTIC NEUTRAL to proceed. Our data indicates that you are currently employed with THE JAZZ COMBO CABARET as HEAD ENTERTAINER //. MIXOLOGIST at ELYSIUM //. ASSOCIATE for the DIAMOND KINGS //. HONOVII of THE FORGOTTEN. For your safety and security, it is crucial that all background information is accurate. Further analysis of our archives highlights your alignment with at least moving like liquid light, shifting forms with every step, you dance a whispered spell that bends reality. Each motion transcends the flesh, as you become something more—unbound, ethereal, a force of nature woven through rhythm and grace; Draped in black latex, heels sharp as your gaze, a chip pulsing beneath your skin—you're no longer the child of the left behind, now a storm of steel and shadows and //. or CAT PEOPLE (PUTTING OUT FIRE) BY DAVID BOWIE. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ Verification 100% complete. Please adhere to all local regulations and laws during your stay. We trust that your time here will be both fulfilling and safe. 】

CHAPTER I: See these eyes, so green? I can stare for a thousand years...

You’re a storm born from dust and decay, the aftermath of a world that crumbled before you were even a thought. A child of the end, two years after the fall—yet they call you Forgotten. Like a curse whispered, you wear it, let it slide off your skin. What’s left to care about when you’ve outlived the destruction of everything? Your people? They didn’t care, either. The dead world never broke them. They built something new from the bones of the old, survived when the moon came crashing down, wiped away the tears that stained their cheeks, and dug in deeper. Together, they made a tribe from the ruins, bound by hunger, loss, and the echoes of a life that no longer existed. Your mother told you once—you were a miracle. Born when the world was poison, when radiation from sunstones above scorched the earth and sickness took everything. She lost your father before you ever knew him, claimed by the same illness that plagued so many. The Underground wasn’t finished, wasn’t safe, but you lived. You thrived. You remember the dirt under your feet, the wild abandon of running through the tunnels with the other children. The lessons—they were always lessons. How to survive, how to grow food, how to speak to the plants and coax life from a dead earth. Food was scarce, but no one hoarded. Greed had ruined the world once. Your people wouldn’t let it happen again. They believed they were saved for a reason, spared from the wrath that fell on those who tried to play God. Your leaders taught that the world was now the way it was meant to be—humbled, stripped of the desires that had led to ruin. It was a harsh doctrine, but you soaked it in. You learned fast. By twelve, you were a hunter, eyes trained to read the skies for danger, muscles honed through brutal training. You moved through the world above, navigating the craters and scars of the earth with ease. You saw life there, twisted but persistent, and it stirred something in you—something that grew when you caught sight of the barrier, glowing in the distance. The world beyond called to you, even as your tribe preached caution, preached restraint. When your time came, you left without hesitation. Neo California awaited, and with it, a new kind of life. You didn’t look back. You promised you’d return. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t. The city hit you like a slap to the face. Neon lights, steel towers, the hum of machines. It was a different kind of wild. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with nature. But you were trained for survival. Your first night, you nearly died, but you fought back, muscles and instinct saving you in the moment that counted. The city was sin. You knew that. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. The art, the beauty, the chaos—it wrapped around you, pulled you in deeper. You danced, as you had in the tunnels, but here your movements became something more. You bent your body into shapes that made people stare, made them applaud. You fed on their praise, found yourself craving it. Was it a sin to want more than survival? To feel joy in the excess, in the creation of something beautiful? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. But the city changed you. Hardened you. Made you forget. You swore you wouldn’t, but the years passed, and the memories of home grew distant. The city taught you its own lessons—ones about greed, about desire, about the selfishness that lingered in every dark corner. It was a different kind of danger, one you had to learn to navigate. You kept your distance, kept your heart locked away. But you grew sharp. The city made you hard, made you fierce. And still, somehow, you found a strange kind of peace in its chaos.

CHAPTER II: See these eyes, so red? Red like jungle burning bright...

You’ve grown accustomed to the sharp edges of this city—Neo California, a place where survival is a skill and trust is a luxury. Day after day, you witness the struggles of those who can’t defend themselves, swallowed by the dog-eat-dog world that thrives within the barrier. You’ve learned not to interfere, not to let the chaos pull you under. But sometimes, fate has other plans. It’s on a night like any other, the neon lights casting eerie shadows, that you're outnumbered by a so-called "super fan" and his gang of hungry wolves after a shift at the Jazz Combo Cabaret. You, who have always danced through danger, suddenly find yourself cornered. But salvation comes in an unexpected form—the leader of The Diamond Kings, a ghost among legends. They steps in, and just like that, the tide shifts. You’re grateful, but not overly so. Survival is a dance, after all, and you’ve danced alone for so long. Yet something changes that night. A bond begins to weave itself between you, subtle but undeniable. The meetings happen more often—an unspoken understanding. The physical and emotional lines blur, but you both know that in this city, time is as fleeting as safety. It’s a connection neither of you can afford to fully explore, but on the hardest nights, when the weight of the world presses in too tight, one of you always finds the other’s door. No words are needed. A quiet understanding passes between you, a respite from the city’s constant roar. Eventually, you make a decision—not fully entangled, but tied enough to feel the pull. You agree to become an associate, a silent observer. Report what you see, they tell you, and they’ll handle the rest. You don’t like getting involved, not in a way that binds you to more trouble than it’s worth. But there’s a flicker of something deeper, something buried beneath the years. The abandoned part of you, the child who once lived by a different code, listens and agrees. And so, you take them up on their offer.

CHAPTER III: See these tears, so blue? An ageless heart that can never mend...

The irony, sharp as a blade, cuts deep—being labeled Forgotten, only to forget your own people, your own values. You came to this city and it changed you, morphed you into exactly what they warned you about. Selfish. Hungry for something to fill the void inside, basking in fleeting pleasures that offer no peace. Sometimes, you look up at the artificial skies, glowing a false blue, and you remember the young woman you once were—sneaking out from the underground, just to catch a glimpse of the real sky, the imperfect one that stretched endlessly above. Togetherness. You think of that word often. Of how your people used to protect one another, sharing everything from food to warmth. But here? It feels distant, buried beneath layers of who you've become. Ryn Noir. It was supposed to be a stage name, just a mask to wear in this glittering chaos, but now it’s become your identity. The you who carries your true name—sacred and unspoken—feels like a shadow, lost to time. On stage, they see the allure, the enigma, the survivor. You are no longer the woman who once danced barefoot in the dirt, who prayed for the sky to hold out its mercy. Now, you're just another ghost of Neo California, someone who hides her heart behind a veil of mystery, because that’s what this place does—it pulls you into the grey, until you forget the colors that once defined you. As you stand behind the bar, listening to others spill their confessions, you realize everyone here battles their own demons. Each of them, like you, walks the fine line between right and wrong, good and evil. You wonder, in those moments of quiet reflection, if any of them remember where they came from. You think of your mother, of the faces that raised you, their love and teachings fading with time, and you can't help but think—perhaps the title Forgotten was always meant to be. Perhaps it was never just a cruel label, but a prophecy.

Still this pulsing night, A plague I call a heartbeat, Just be still with me, You wouldn't believe what I've been through...

[dragon-age-codex-entries]

Codex entry: The First Blight: Chapter 3

"The world during the First Blight was different from the world we know today. Aside from the civilized rule of the Imperium, humans as a race were largely barbarous and splintered, divided into clans and tribes and squabbling among ourselves for resources. At the same time, deep beneath Thedas's great mountain ranges spanned a dwarven culture as organized and advanced as ours was primitive.

As the darkspawn bubbled up to the surface from their underground lairs, mankind first buckled and then fought back. The armies of Tevinter attempted to face down the multitudes of twisted creatures and the horrid rotting of the land around them, but they could not be everywhere at once. Human history remembers the First Blight as a time of terrible devastation, and those stories are accurate, but in our arrogance we often forget the price paid by the dwarves in their isolated mountain kingdoms.

The dwarves faced far greater hordes than humanity as the darkspawn challenged them for control of the underground. Despite the might and technology the dwarves brought to bear, the savage darkspawn tore through them, first destroying the more remote thaigs before swallowing up entire kingdoms. Think of it: an entire civilization lost in the space of decades. Compared to the near-genocide that the dwarves faced, what we humans call the First Blight must have seemed a mere skirmish. Against the darkspawn, the dwarven lands have always borne the brunt of the fighting and the majority of the sacrifices.

Four dwarven kingdoms finally managed to combine their might and fight back, and that cooperation saved them. But for the rest of their lands it was too late. The darkspawn had taken the Deep Roads, the majestic underground passages that linked the dwarven lands throughout Thedas. The darkspawn could now attack anywhere on the surface through these tunnels.

Humanity simply was not prepared for such an onslaught. It was clear that the warfare we knew would not avail us. We had to find a new way to fight.

Thus came our salvation: The Grey Wardens were born."

—From Tales of the Destruction of Thedas, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry Scholar

[theblackbookofarkera]

Kin of Saraga

In the shadowed crags of the Arisitir Mountains, which form a formidable barrier between the realms of Thelesia and Cassiar, there are whispers of the Kin of Saraga. These grotesque entities are rumored to inhabit the most inaccessible peaks, shrouded in mystery and fear. Legends suggest that they share a sinister lineage with the kithbray tribes—those malevolent marauders who haunt the Vogh Mountains, spreading terror between the borders of Thelesia and Romeria. It is conjectured that both the Kin and the kithbray are the progeny of a vile and ancient magic, a sorcery so dark that it taints their very essence.

The Kin of Saraga are described as chimeric abominations, an unholy amalgamation of human, mountain goat, and wolf features. Their birth is a curse upon humanity, for they can only be brought into this world through human mothers, emerging not singly but in cursed litters ranging from two to six offspring. These savage beings are not only fierce in appearance but also in their craftsmanship. They are unparalleled smiths, capable of forging weapons of such malevolence that they seem to pulsate with the dark magics imbued by their shamanistic rituals.

The deity they revere is none other than Saraga, a name that echoes with dread in the annals of history. Saraga, the Kin's divine patron, is believed to be the architect of their existence. The fragmented records that have survived the cataclysmic Judgment of the Old World hint at Saraga's mortal beginnings. Once a member of the twisted Circle of Light, Saraga is thought to have wielded sorcery of such magnitude that he not only endured the order's demise but transcended mortality itself.

As raiders, the Kin of Saraga are merciless and cunning. They are said to possess the power to bend beasts to their will, commanding mountain lions with a mere gesture, invoking rockslides to bury their foes, and navigating an extensive labyrinth of subterranean passages. These tunnels serve as their pathways for sudden and brutal assaults on unsuspecting caravans and travelers. The Kin are the embodiment of corruption, so thoroughly depraved that redemption is a concept alien to them. If the tales hold any shred of truth, these creatures are beyond salvation and must be eradicated upon sight, for they are anathema to all that is living and pure.

[liichkiing]

YOU'D BETTER PICK YOUR WEAPONS UP

AND THROW YOUR MERCY DOWN

Hi everybody look at my Hollow Knight oc. Their name is Raiko and they are a scorpion from a kingdom far from Hallownest. Infodumping (which kind of reads like a little story) and also several more sketches under the cut!!!!

SO basically they were raised as a brainwashed soldier but then they assassinated their king and tried to stage a full on revolution but their heavily militaristic kingdom quashed it really quickly. And as punishment they were "made an example of" (dismembered slowly and publicly). Their fellow rebels snuck in and freed them before their stinger was removed though, and one of the others had started making them prosthetic arms. Their hideout got raided before their second, third, or fourth sets of missing limbs had proper finished prosthetics, so they only have the one set of arms. They and their fellows scattered, and they haven't seen or heard from any of them since. They have no idea if anyone else even survived that raid.

Anyway. They fled to the ruins of Hallownest, since it's a death trap. They assumed their pursuers wouldn't follow them there, as the assumption could safely be made that they were either dead or miserable down there.

They are alone for a while until they happen upon the mantis tribe. A younger mantis warrior named Kas'il recognizes them as a dangerous individual and tries to take them down, but Raiko has a lot more experience and quickly takes her down. They don't kill her, though, because she's one of the first non-infected bugs they've seen around. Slowly, they end up bonding, and Kas'il tells them that if they can best her tribe's Lords in combat, then her tribe will no longer be hostile to them even though they are a terrifying huge scorpion and are very reminiscent of the beasts of Deepnest.

So, Raiko fights the Mantis Lords, and they come to respect each other. They're able to freely travel into Deepnest, which they are hesitant to do at first, but they're very much drawn to the dark. Part of them feels like they belong in Deepnest. This is their self loathing talking, but, hey, it happens.

At some point, they hear stories about the Mask Maker, and, given that their face and horns were disfigured during their failed rebellion, they are a bit desperate for. Again, they have a lot of self loathing and survivor's guilt, and they hate being reminded of their failures every time that they see their reflection.

They spend increasing amounts of time isolating themself in Deepnest, killing a lot of dirtcarvers in the process. They end up carving out a little hole for themself in the tunnels somewhere. Eventually they don't even talk to Kas'il anymore.

One day a strange, pale little thing breaks into their home, catching them off guard. They fight, and after several (or maybe just one) attempts, the little ghost defeats them. With Raiko feigning death, the ghost leaves. Not long after, though, it returns. Raiko tells it that they don't want to fight it, since it's clearly a determined and formidable foe. Instead, they offer stories from their distant home--a new tale every time that their strange visitor returns.

After several stories, they realize how much talking about their life has made them feel... Happy. They didn't know they could even feel happy. It was strange and perhaps a bit scary, but, with their newfound motivation, they knew that they had to do something for their strange companion. They made a gift: a charm, much like the one they'd been granted by the mantises, but with their own twist.

Venomous Blade

Imbued with the power and guilt of a deadly beast. The bearer's nail is coated with scorpion venom and deals more damage over time. When hit, the bearer's strength resets.

Shortly after the Absolute Radiance is killed and the Infection is no more, Raiko happens across a Nosk hunting a strange little glowing beetle. Raiko kills the Nosk, but the little beetle reminds them of a friend they once had, and so (although they look delicious) they let the beetle live and opt to protect the little adventurer.

(And then they fall in love and adopt some weird little vessels.)

(Kite, the luma beetle, belongs to @ivory-obsidian ::^D)

[songbirdsanctuary]

Wings of fire, book 1 <Not named yet>

Prophecy,

In the heart of Amala, where shadows grow, A prophecy whispered by winds shall flow. A war will break, tribes torn apart, But six dragons will rise, each playing their part.

From ashes and flames, two dragons shall flee, One desiring change for her kingdom to see. From the depths of the sea with wings bright as gold, A dragon will rise, her courage bold.

Cast out and bitter, another will stand, Her heart seeking vengeance, her soul contraband. One who speaks to plants for reasons her own, Will find her path in a garden overgrown.

A dragon without fire, seen as weak and small, Will prove her strength as she answers the call. Together they’ll stand, these six as one, To end the war, under the blazing sun.

Each will rise, a queen to be, Bringing peace to Amala, setting their tribes free. With courage and wisdom, their hearts will mend, The bonds of war, and bring it to an end.

Prologue:

Pufferfish walked through the tunnel, the air thick with moisture, the walls slick and cold beneath a heavy blanket of vines and moss. The overgrowth was so dense that it almost felt alive, creeping into every crevice and twisting around the jagged stone like a serpent. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, echoing in the enclosed space, and somewhere in the darkness, small creatures scurried away at the sound of his steps. His wings brushed the damp walls as he pressed forward, the tight passage squeezing the breath from his lungs.

Ahead, barely visible in the dim light, sat Tigershark, her massive form blocking the entrance to a door that looked more like a shadow than an actual barrier. The door blended into the stone, nearly impossible to see beneath layers of grime and ancient markings. Only the faintest outline could be made out where the stone had been carved to fit together. Tigershark’s silver scales, which normally shone like the moon over the sea, appeared almost black in the gloom, blending her into the surroundings. She flicked her tail impatiently, her eyes narrowed as Pufferfish approached.

"What took you so long, Pufferfish?" she hissed, her voice sharp and full of accusation. Pufferfish sighed, already exhausted from the journey. He stepped closer, the moisture from the tunnel clinging to his scales, making them glisten faintly in the sparse light.

"I flew halfway across Amala for this," he said, exasperation lacing his words. "Besides, I’m the one who killed a CactiWing for the tail barb. You wouldn't have gotten this far without me." He gestured toward the small, jagged piece of dark green that glinted faintly in his talons—a rare and deadly CactiWing tail barb, still smeared with remnants of its former owner's venom.

Tigershark snatched the barb from Pufferfish’s grasp without hesitation, her movements quick and precise. Her lips curled into a smirk as she examined it, turning it over in her claws. "Like I said," she replied, not bothering to look up, "I'll make the wish for the riches, become queen, and I’ll split the wealth with you. A fair deal, wouldn’t you agree?" Her eyes gleamed as she moved toward the door, the tail barb clenched tightly in her claws.

Pufferfish watched, his muscles tense. He wasn’t sure he trusted Tigershark, but he knew better than to voice his doubts now. There was too much at stake.

The door, almost invisible moments ago, responded as Tigershark inserted the barb into an oddly-shaped lock. It fit perfectly, as if the door had been waiting for this moment for centuries. The key twisted with a soft click, and the ancient stone mechanism began to grind slowly to life. The door glowed faintly as it creaked open, revealing a cavernous room beyond, eerily silent save for the sound of the shifting stone.

The room itself was barren, save for a single statue in the center. It loomed over the empty space, towering and dark, shaped like a dragon with wings folded back and a long, sinuous neck. Its head was bowed low, as if in eternal mourning or contemplation, its mouth open slightly as if caught mid-roar. Embedded deep within its chest, where a heart should have been, was a gleaming gem, rectangular and shimmering with an array of colors that seemed to shift and pulse like a living thing. It was mesmerizing—too perfect to be anything but the animus-touched gem they had come for.

“There!” Tigershark whispered sharply, her eyes locked on the gem. "Stay back, I’ll grab it." Without waiting for a response, she slunk into the room, her scales brushing softly against the stone floor as she approached the statue. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if some ancient trap might spring at any moment. When she reached the base of the statue, her claws hovered over the gem for only a moment before she seized it, gripping it tightly as it slid free from its resting place.

As it slid free from the statue’s chest, cold, clawed talons clamped down on Tigershark’s arms, holding her in place with an iron grip. Her heart leaped into her throat as a deep, rumbling voice echoed through the room.

“Tigershark,” it said, the sound like stone grinding against stone. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes snapped to the face of the statue. The once lifeless stone eyes now gleamed with a menacing light, and to her horror, they were locked directly onto hers. Slowly, impossibly, the statue's mouth moved. It was speaking.

"How nice to meet you," the statue continued, its voice thick with malice. Tigershark’s mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening, but the talons held her fast. She tried to step back, to pull away from the now-living stone, but its grip tightened, preventing any escape. Her pulse quickened, and a flicker of real fear crept into her chest.

“Tigershark! I—is something wrong?” Pufferfish’s voice echoed distantly through the room, but it barely registered in her mind. She was too transfixed by the living, breathing statue before her. Its mouth curled into a twisted smile, a grotesque parody of something friendly.

"What are you going to wish for?" the statue asked, its voice soft and mocking. Tigershark opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat was dry, and her tongue felt thick. She could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak.

The statue leaned closer, its face mere inches from hers. She could feel the cold stone against her snout, its breath—if it had any—smelling faintly of something ancient and decayed. “Hmm,” it hummed thoughtfully. From its open mouth, something began to spill forth—dark, swirling smoke, shimmering with the same eerie glow as the gem she had just removed. The smoke coiled lazily through the air, like it had a will of its own. It spread across the room, filling every corner, until the air was thick with it.

"Riches, hmm? And to be queen?" The statue mused, its voice dripping with amusement. "Well... it's your wish."

The smoke circled around Tigershark, curling under her wings and between her claws. She could feel its cold tendrils snaking up her body, wrapping around her like vines. She trembled uncontrollably, every instinct screaming at her to run, to flee, but the statue’s grip kept her firmly in place.

“Tigershark! What’s happening?” Pufferfish’s voice sounded closer, more urgent now, but he still couldn’t see what she was seeing. "I-it... The statue is moving!" she managed to stammer, her voice barely a whisper.

“No, it’s not," Pufferfish called out, his voice shaking with confusion. "You're just holding the gem, that’s all!"

But Tigershark knew better. The statue's talons tightened around her wrists as it leaned in even closer, until its mouth was beside her ear. “You know,” it whispered, its voice low and sinister, “a dead CactiWing barb, I wouldn’t normally accept. But…” It paused, its cold eyes locking onto hers once more, “I can give you what you want."

Something shifted in Tigershark then. The fear that had gripped her moments ago began to drain away, replaced by an odd calm that settled over her like a thick blanket. She stopped struggling, her body relaxing under the statue’s gaze. She blinked once, twice, and then, without a word, stepped back from the statue, its grip releasing her as she moved.

With the gem clutched tightly in her claws, she turned away from the statue and walked slowly back toward the door where Pufferfish was waiting, wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Tigershark, what—?” But she cut him off, her voice calm and steady now.

"I wish I was the CoralWing queen, forever, and to be the richest dragon to ever live!" she declared, her voice echoing through the chamber.

The gem, which had pulsed with vibrant, shifting colors just moments before, suddenly cracked. A sharp, loud sound, like shattering glass, filled the air, and the gem crumbled to dust in her claws, the once powerful object now nothing more than a pile of gray ashes. Tigershark glanced at it briefly, but she didn’t seem to care.

"Alright, Pufferfish," she said briskly, brushing the dust from her claws, "let's go."

Pufferfish stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. Something was wrong, he could feel it. The room felt different, the air heavier, but Tigershark was acting as if nothing had happened.

"Tigershark! You need to go!" he yelled, his voice filled with panic. He looked around frantically, noticing for the first time that the door was beginning to close, the stone grinding shut at a painfully slow pace. But Tigershark barely glanced at it.

"Pufferfish?" she asked, tilting her head curiously, as if she couldn’t understand why he was so agitated. "The door is closing!"

"Stop acting odd!" she hissed, annoyance flashing in her eyes as she turned and began walking toward the exit, her steps unnervingly calm and measured.

Pufferfish remained frozen in place, watching as the door continued to close. He wanted to move, to follow her, but something kept him rooted to the spot. His instincts screamed at him that something terrible had just happened, something he didn’t understand—but he knew, deep down, that he wanted no part in it.

As the door shut completely with a heavy, final thud, Tigershark stood on the other side, motionless, her body rigid. A strange, eerie silence filled the room. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Pufferfish backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what had just happened, but one thing was certain—he was getting out of here, and he wasn't looking back.

[doctorrsong]

All's Fair in Love and War

A starter for @thedoctornumber11

Skethax - An arid giant planet, circling a binary star system. It was a planet of limited resources. Limited water. Limited plant life. Gigantic quartz mountains dominated the landscape, twinkling in the twin suns, surrounded by endless deserts of diamond-bright sand. The heat was eternally blinding. But there was surprising biodiversity for such a dismally difficult landscape. Nestled in the cool, dry tunnels dug into the massive mountain ranges that circled the planet lived the Klintai, a deeply scientifically advanced humanoid race. They adapted to the harsh climes by almost never going out in it. They'd built themselves a utopia inside their crystal caverns, safe from the blistering heat and beating suns. They podfarmed deep underground, dug networks of cisterns into the bedrock, and automated most of the work done there. And the Klintai themselves? They were a race of thinkers, dedicating their time to music and philosophy and the pursuit of beauty. However, they were NOT the dominant species on the surface of the planet. Out in the desert lived a different race, a race of massive, red bipedal lizards with long claws and a venomous bite. They were nomadic, driving herds of scraggly ungulates from one tiny oasis to the other across the unforgiving deserts. They called themselves the Skrixxal. They lived in small family tribes, constantly at war with each other over the limited water and resources. They had little in the way of technology beyond spears and arrows, but they were strong, and they could fight for hours after taking a fatal wound before their hearts finally gave out and they fell. They were something of a warrior culture, and took pride in brutal strength.

These two populations had spent the last hundred years at war.

The Klintai has a massive technological advantage. They built long range lazer weapons. Bombs. Rapidly repeating guns. They were able to mow down hundreds of thousands of Skrixxal without even leaving their tunnels. Which was a good thing, because out of their tunnels, they were easily massacred. On the occasions when Skrixxal warriors managed to penetrate the tunnel security, a mere handful of them were able to mow down entire towns full of Klintai citizens. And they were merciless. They left no survivors in their wake, only twisted, mutilated corpses, chewed down to the bone. The two species were evenly matched. And so the war raged for over a century. The dead, on both sides, buried en mass in the remains of sites that used to be thriving cities. The hatred on both sides mounting until it was practically a defining trait of both species.

Today, however, marked a possible turning in the tides of the war. Recently, there had been a massive increase in Skrixxal warriors making their way into Klintai tunnels. Six cities in the past six weeks had fallen when the Skrixxal snuck in somehow, transforming the populations of the cities into little more than piles of bones. The Klintai had been terrified. Their tunnels, usually so secure, seemed suddenly to be little more than a thin sheet between them and Skrixxal teeth. Then, a sensor in the intake port for one of their air portals went off. There was what looked like a Skrixxal in full dark leather armored

uniform and helmet, prying the security cover off the air intake with an unknown device. The figure was smaller than most Skrixxal by at least two feet. That must have been how it was sneaking in the air tunnels to release the doors and let it's fellow marauders in.

The Klintai army flew into action. They gathered their strongest men, and they began laying a trap. They changed the route of the air tunnels, shutting off corridors and drawing the Skrixxal into a trap. Then they pulled the floor out from beneath it. It fell, down a tunnel, screaming in a way they didn't know its kind could even scream, and landed right in the center of a cell. They slammed the top onto the cage, and the thing was trapped. It stood quickly, in a defensive couch, helmeted head whipping back and forth as it took in the reality of its surroundings.

It was trapped in a cell. Three walls and the floor were made of feet of solid quartz, the ceiling and front wall was made of solid titanium bars a foot in diameter. On the other side of the bars stood some 40 Klintai soldiers, laser cannons pointed directly at it. The thing was well and truly trapped.

It stood up to it's full height, not much more than 5 feet tall, around 2 feet smaller than most it's kind, and, to everyone's great surprise, it spoke.

"Another cage." It sighed. "I don't know why people keep trying to put me in these things. It never takes.".

The soldiers jumped back in alarm. They'd never heard one speak before. Frankly it had been over a century since anyone from either side had heard the other speak. The figure began unbuckling it's helmet, as if to take it off and reveal it's face and head, but a soldier stepped up, gun cocked.

"Leave that on, foul beast!" He shouted. "We know you can spit your corrosive venom. We won't let you."

"Corrosive venom?" The figure scoffed. But the soldier primed the gun again and it relented. "Fine. You win. Helmet stays on." It said, both hands in the air.

Then something started beeping.

It was not a familiar beep to the Klintai army. Their devices did not beep. They looked around in confusion as the beeping got more intense. In the cell the Skrixxal figure was staring at something on it's wrist. It was some sort of brown leather cuff, that looked similar to the armor it wore, but it opened a flap and inside was some sort of electronic device. That was the source of the beeping. The soldiers looked at each other in surprise. The Skrixxal, as far as they knew, used no electronics, yet here was this odd, tiny, armored soldier with a beeping device on its wrist.

"What is the proximity alarm doing......" The figure muttered to itself, pressing some buttons. Then, suddenly she went still.

"No ....." It muttered. "There's no way. He's here!" The figure started to laugh. In one swift movement, it pulled its helmet off and wat came out from under the helmet was DEFINITELY not a Skrixxal. It was a woman. She had fair skin, full lips, a strong nose and a massive cloud of golden curls that seemed utterly incapable of having been shoved into that tight helmet. Bright turquoise eyes twinkled as she smiled at the gaping mouths of the soldiers around her.

"Boys, I know I'm good looking," she purred. "But no need to drool. Close those mouths."

She tossed the helmet aside and began unbuckling the rest of the armour, letting it fall away to reveal a curvaceous woman in a simple green jumpsuit, with a large brown belt and boots. There was a gun strapped to her hip. The strange device on her wrist beeped urgently again.

"Now," she said, "I need to speak to the Doctor. Talk man, floppy hair, pops out of a big blue box and acts like he's in charge? I know he's here. My vortex manipulator has a proximity alarm for his TARDIS....and it sensed it VERY nearby."