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fuckao3sformatting · 5 months ago

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Death of piece of mind

“I'm sorry to disturb sir, but there's a young lady down in the lobby asking for you.”

“Oh yeah? What she look like?”

“Um.. Red hair, weird eyes, nice tits.. hehe.”

I nodded and headed down towards the lobby, humans always took notes of the strangest things, but i still knew who he was talking about. It had been some time so I wondered what she wanted, she asked for me specifically so is it something to do with the case they had to scry on?

“You were looking for me?”

As she spun around her huge eyes met mine. “Gods above, you started me!” She put a hand to her chest.

“Sorry, I tend to do that. What's this about?”

“Is my heart allowed to start again first?” she panted.

I chuckled, I always found that expression funny because whenever people said that their heart was beating faster than usual.

“Sure come along, I have a pretty good idea what this is about so let's go somewhere more private.”

We entered my suite at the hotel, it was the most private place I could think of. Vex looked around fidgeting a little, was she nervous? Might as well get the formalities out of the way.

“Welcome to my living quarters, I'm not entirely wrong in thinking this is about the investigation right?”

I walked over to sit on the edge of my bed motioning for her to join me.She jumped a little again as she turned to face me, is this information so vital that she has to be on guard or is she thinking about something else. Despite her obvious reservations she sat down, that she sat down a respectable space away from me made me realize why she was so fidgety.

“Right, yes you're right. Sorry to show up unannounced but I didn't know who else to ask about this.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder in the hopes that it would calm her. “Don’t worry about it, tell me what you found out and I’ll see if I can help.”

She stopped fidiging, but it didn’t seem to calm her down much.

“Okay, long story short: we found the guy who tampered with the spell and who we assumed he worked for but it turned out he was under someone’s control. So we followed another lead to find the one who controlled him which appeared to be a lady at first” her eyebrows furrowed “and I still have a hard time believing this myself, but the lady turned out to be a skin stealer of some kind.”

I looked at her incredulously, a skin stealer?

“What makes you think it was a skin stealer?”

“I saw them peel their skin off like you’d peel a tomato when I used forensic magic on what we believed was a coat the lady had worn, turned out to be human skin. And get this, it had every blood type in it.” She did the ‘mind blown’ gesture and I had to keep in a chuckle.

“I see, but what does that have to do with me? Why exactly did you want my help?”

“Oh” she said, almost surprised as she padded on her short pockets “because I also caught a glimpse of what we think is his actual form, and he had this symbol, among others carved into his forehead.” and handed me the piece of paper.

“Now that’s something I haven’t seen in a long time, I’m guessing you know who Cain is then since you went to me with this?”

She nodded. “The mythical first vampire right?”

“Yeah, the first murderer, the first predator according to some. Why would this guy have his symbol.. you said carved right?” she nodded again “into his forehead.. Were there signs of him being a vampire?”

“At first, when he wore the lady’s skin he wasn’t showing up on security footage, but then he walked outside during the day so the ‘he’s a vampire’ theory kinda went down the drain.. So I was hoping you’d maybe know a little more than I do because the only two options I have left are skin walker and Cain cultist of some variety, other than that I’m stumped.”

“I’ll ask around if there'spopped up anything like that recently, though Cain isn’t exactly a liked topic around here so I’d appreciate it if I didn’t go stick my neck out for nothing.”

I guess I really was the best person for her to ask. The circle has a good few Cain Truthers. But what would be adequate compensation for having to listen to the religious fanaticism I’d have to endure before if I got anything useful out of them? I thought for a few seconds about my option's, she was looking at me expectantly, and I looked her over a little until my eyes landed on the dancing pulse point on her neck. She hadn’t really calmed down since we entered my room, so her heart was still beating a steady rhythm. Yes, that would be my price.

“I want to drink from you, a few drops of vitae to seal our agreement.”

Her cheeks immediately turned the most delightful shade of pink, cute. “Um, are you sure? I don’t mind but I’ve just never done something like this before..”

She's been so nervous around me since she got here. But, I had absolutely nothing against popping this particular cherry. It would be my first time tasting mage blood, so this was something to be savored I’m sure.

“Don’t worry”

I moved closer to her. Good thing we were already on the bed “just let me lead and make yourself comfortable.”

She nodded and closed her large, oddly colored eyes. I moved her long hair away from her neck with one hand and cradled her face with the other, tilting her head for better access. As I kissed along the line of her jaw to find the best entry point, I relished how long and slender her neck was, how smooth and soft her skin felt on my lips. As my fangs pierced Vex's skin, she whimpered slightly, and my beast was enjoying this as much as the little human i had left. It was like she was made to be bitten by me. Her warm blood filled my mouth, and I did indeed savour it like a man deprived of water, I had never tasted anything better. But something else possibly more powerful than the familiar hunger took me over. Without letting go of my prey I pinned her to my bed under me, the little surprised squeak that came from her only spurred me on further, I found both her hands with ease and pinned them above her head with one hand in a swift motion and the other that previously held her face started to explore further down her body. I situated myself between her legs with ease, and her heart started to beat faster, quickening the flow of blood accompanied by heat radiating from her lower body. Yes, she wanted this just as much as I, what perfect little prey.

“Loki, please…"

I needed no convincing. I was already exploring her smooth curves and I was determined to map them out in their entirety, I might not get another chance. Her breasts were particularly sensitive even with the barrier of her bra, I pulled her shirt up exposing her stomach and she made the most delicious adorable noises. As my hand finally reached the hem of her shorts she wrestled her hands free from my grip and tried to push me away from her.. Why?

“Stop. That's enough Loki. Please stop, not like this...”

She. She didn't want this?

I pulled out my fangs with reluctance and licked the wound to close it. The small moan she made had me wonder why she asked me to stop. When I came back to my senses a horrid realization hit me. She was deadly pale and she could barely keep her eyes open, shit. Fuck what have I done, I checked her pulse and it was very weak, I padded her lightly on the cheek and her eyes fluttered weakly. Vex I'm so sorry, please be alright.

She finally managed to open her eyes but they were.. different? The white and pupils had completely disappeared leaving the right completely green and the left completely black, she also had a glow of silver surrounding her.. What was happening? Her complexion which I had assumed was due to severe blood loss was way too white to be natural as well, she. She looked like an angel.

“I'm alright I think, I.. just… I don't.” She paused for a moment. “Why did you do that?”

I just blinked at her.

“Because we had a deal?”

I couldn't follow her train of thought before she pulled down her shirt and tried to cover herself up, ah that. The guilt I had while I thought I'd drained her was replaced by the guild of letting my senses run away from me and taking things further than need be, hadn't she stopped me I might've done both. Seeing Vex shielding herself by putting space between us again made her look so incredibly fragile, all I could do was let the shame comsoon me for almost ruining something so innocent.

“I.. Everything just - the moment I bit you I was practically running on autopilot, it doesn't excuse it I know.”

She just nodded.

“But, would you have stopped me if I had asked beforehand?”

What the fuck is wrong with me. I've just finished violating her and I now want to know if it would have been better if I'd asked first? Am I fucking stupid or what..

“Yes, I believe I would.”

I don't know why the answer hit my ego that hard but it did, then again can I really blame her? I am quite literally the greatest predator she’ll ever meet.

“It's because of the” I flicked my tongue over one of my fangs as emphasis “yeah?”

She shook her head.

“I just don't know you at all. It's nothing against you but I'd ideally want my first time to be with someone I actually know.”

First time? She said it was her first time being bitten sure, but she can't be referring to that can she?

“Ok, now you're just fucking with me. Right?”

Vex frowned, after everything I'd done this was what she got angry about?

“Is it really that hard to believe I'm a virgin?”

“I mean… Yeah a little bit.”

“Enlighten me?”

Ok Loki, you have to choose your words very carefully now. Express yourself without making it more awkward and weird than it already is.

“Look at you.”

Fuck. No. What is wrong with me?

“I mean, you just seem like a girl who'd have a lot of options.”

The glow was fading away slowly and that's when I realized it hadn't bothered me, quite the opposite actually, it was comforting.

“You're just so.. radiant. I've never seen anything like it.”

Her face softened, a slight tint of the pink form before returning to her cheeks but not quite as strong.

“Just because I have options doesn’t mean I have to take them” then she giggled, she actually giggled after this whole situation “but I guess I appreciate the compliment, as weirdly phrased as it was.”

I rolled off the bed to give her more space, she nodded at me like she appreciated the gesture.

“I’ll see what I can figure out, I’ll put my findings with your guy in the serpent's kiss. And again, sorry.”

She shrugged. “What’s done is done, but I would appreciate it if what happened didn’t leave this room..”

“My lips are sealed, you have my word.”

And she left. And I realized that I’d probably never be able to forget the way her skin felt, how my name sounded on her voice, how her blooded tasted so sweet on my tongue, how we felt so complete laying together. For the first time since being turned i realized what true hunger was and that I'd never be this satisfied again. And that is why I could never be this close to her again, both for her and my sake.

#vex and loki #vex #loki #vampire romance #world of darkness #mage the awakening #vampire the requiem #ocXnpc #original content

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much-obliged-timothy · 3 years ago

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Devil May Cry: Unexpected Ties Part 3

You can find part 1 of this AU here! I’m considering turning this into an actual fic on AO3 when I have more free time to write, but for now, it’ll just be these shorter (sometimes loosely) connected parts instead! Also as I go to post this I realized I definitely messed up the timeline with Trish, but the DMC timeline is a nightmare anyway so we’ll just quietly accept my mistake too

Dante was growing very familiar with the roofs of Fortuna. He’d called Trish to tell her he’d be gone longer than expected but that everything was under control.

He wasn’t sure that was quite true. What was he hoping to gain by spending time with the kid? Wouldn’t he only be hurting Nero when he finally left?

Unless, of course, Nero left with him.

The thought was ridiculous. But it brought a rebellious little flame of longing.

Dante told himself it was because he’d gone so long without a family. He’d never considered children before, and hanging out with one a couple of times was nowhere near the same as actually being stuck raising one.

It was easier to tell himself it was because he missed his parents. It was harder to acknowledge those faint memories of Vergil smiling at him when they were Nero’s age.

He shook those thoughts off as Nero emerged from the class he’d been sitting in. A few other children ran out past him, one slamming into his shoulder.

“Hey!” Nero said, scowling.

“Go tell your mom,” the kid taunted, the others laughing and running off together.

Nero clenched his fists, that stubborn expression twisting his face. Dante had quickly learned Nero got that expression when he was trying not to try.

Nero hunched his shoulders and began walking down the street. Kyrie wasn’t with him, off practicing her singing. The older boy - Dante still hadn’t learned his name - was at another training session. Nero was clearly feeling their absence.

Well, that was no good. Dante leapt down from the roof and jogged up towards Nero.

“Hey, Nero!” he called.

Nero spun around in surprise, his lips twitching towards a smile. “Dante!”

“Got some free time today, kid?” Dante asked. “The pizza around here sucks, but I found one place I can stomach.”

Nero’s eyes were practically shining. “Sure. Okay. I have my- I brought my CDs.” He looked embarrassed at that, though Dante had already been aware the boy had been carrying them around since their last encounter.

Dante grinned. “Good. C’mon.”

He stuck to side streets. The last thing he needed was for someone to come after him for wandering around with a little kid. Fortuna wasn’t exactly welcoming to strangers, and Dante highly doubted they’d be warm to the thought of Dante spending time with Nero.

He had Nero wait outside while he went in and bought them a pizza. As he waited for it, he considered where to take him.

There was a forest outside the town. Might as well take Nero there so they wouldn’t be interrupted by crazy cultists.

“Want to get some fresh air, away from this place?” Dante asked as he went back outside with the pizza.

Nero hesitated only a moment before nodding. Dante was a little worried at how quick the kid was to trust a stranger who was nice to him.

Though, he supposed it worked to his favor that the kid grew up in a place where stranger danger wasn’t that big of a deal. Not like a lot of people passed through Fortuna.

It had Dante wondering whether Nero was born to someone who lived in the town, or if he’d ended up there another way. He decided not to bring it up. This was supposed to be a relaxing time to expose his nephew to the joys of pizza, not a time to tear off the trauma bandage.

He led Nero through the streets. Nero seemed to actually relax a little once they were just outside of town.

Still, Dante decided to be a semi responsible adult. He only led them to the edge of the forest, finding a tree stump just inside for them to sit on together. He set the box between them and flipped the lid open, gesturing grandly to it.

“The finest culinary delicacy,” he announced.

“I’ve had this pizza before,” Nero said, taking a slice and biting into it. “Credo takes us to get a slice for dinner sometimes, if his parents don’t have time to cook.”

Ah, older boy’s name mystery solved. “Well, this is piss-poor pizza, but it’ll do in a pinch. A very painful pinch.”

Nero turned his head away, but his shaking shoulders gave away his suppressed laugh. Dante lightly knocked him on the shoulder.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at my distress. This is serious. I haven’t had a good slice of pizza in almost a week. A week, Nero!” he cried.

Nero put a hand over his mouth to try and keep his laughter in, but some of it still slipped out, muffled by his hand. “You’re such a drama queen, Dante.”

“I am not,” Dante said in offense. “Oh, screw you. Where’s the music? I want to drown out the sound of your insults.”

Nero dug his CD player out of his bag, handing a small stack of CDs to Dante. Dante flicked through them, unfamiliar with all of them but picking out one with a cool cover. He passed it to Nero, who hung the headphones around his neck and started his music up for them.

Nero was eating his second slice of pizza when he broke their comfortable silence. “How come I never see you around town?”

“You’ve seen me around,” Dante said.

Nero shot him a look. Alright, smarter than Dante had given him credit for. Great, the smart-and-stubborn mix of Vergil, rolled into a tiny package.

“I’m here for an investigation. Kind of hard to investigate if you make a spectacle of yourself,” Dante said.

Surprisingly, Nero seemed satisfied by the answer. “Oh. Is it Sanctus? I don’t really like him. And I think his services are boring. But I get in trouble if I sleep through ‘em.”

“It’s a secret,” Dante said.

Nero scowled. “Everything’s a secret to kids. It sucks.”

“Yea, but then you get old and you have to pay taxes. I’d take the secrets,” Dante said.

“Um…is your investigation gonna be a while?” Nero asked, trying and failing to be subtle.

Dante pretended the kid was a master of subtlety. “Hm,” he said. “Going slower than I’d hoped, but I’m making progress here and there.”

“I could help,” Nero said, looking far too eager. “I know a lot of people in town.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I can use you. But keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious to report back to me, okay? I’d appreciate the help,” Dante said.

Nero nodded. “Yea, you got it!”

Dante held his fist out. Nero smacked his own against it, grinning up at Dante.

That proud, mischievous grin on his little face drew a similar one from Dante. And, Dante realized, Nero wasn’t the only one who would hurt when Dante left.

#devil may cry #Nero Sparda #Dante Sparda #dmc nero #dmc dante #DMC #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc unexpected ties #My writing

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borderlandsthirst · 4 years ago

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Flame Angel au

Koetai

Physical

Has a long gash going down her back at a slanted angle, it’s decorated with the twins’ snake symbol and a pair of dragon wings.

Triple pierced ears, a small hoop for the earlobe and studs for the other holes.

Long kinky hair kept in a ponytail, left side of her hair shaved around the ears.

Has smaller scars over her body from years of abuse, use to try and cover them but now wears them with pride.

Fashion since is nonexistent, just like the twins she wears an inconsistent color scheme.

Has her own symbol she wears on the back of her jacket. A dark orange, six-winged serpent surrounded by flames.

Has a pet Spiderantling name Natty who grows up to be a badass Spiderant Queen.

I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!!

Long post under the cut along with psychological destress and dark thoughts.

Mental

Mostly shattered, years of mental and physical abuse has left Koetai in a state of numbness that only eases when the twins are around.��

It’s a bit unstable, can fly off the handle sometimes and takes it out on the followers.

Has accidentally scratched Tyreen once while having a fit, it didn’t really affect her physically but emotionally she understands what it means to be treated poorly by your parents. Even if it’s not the same kind of trauma.

Sometimes she’ll just shut down while in the safety of the Cathedral, while working with a saint or one of the twins she just stops and stare into the distance. Takes a while to bring her back

Has stolen small unimportant items from the twins to take with her while she’s in the field so it feels like they’re with her. She needs them with her.

Feels empty when the twins aren’t around or isn’t being praised by the followers, she’s the right hand of the twin Gods, she’s the enforcer. How can nobody see how powerful and important she is?

Is a bit sadistic, will toy with Crimson Raider soldiers like a cat and then kill them in the most gruesome way imagine with her bare hands or a weapon that’s either her’s or theirs. All with a smile on her face.

Takes pleasure in all pain, mostly people she knows are innocent and not fighters. Why should she care about the pain of children when nobody cared about her’s?

Personality

Crazy, that’s to be expected after everything that’s happened to her.

Will fake you out in a heartbeat, one second she’s quiet and smiling real menacingly in your face, the next you’re lying on the ground bleeding while she walks off with your money and loot.

Only when she’s with the twins can the girl she could have grown into is revealed, kinda shy in interested in music and crafting. And yoga, she has to be at ease to keep the twins at ease when they’re about to snap.

Loves Troy and Tyreen but would never tell them (they’ll figure it out on their own eventually), because to her they are real Gods.

When she’s focused on something she’ll get real quiet so her concentration isn’t broken. Sometime she’ll stick her tongue out the side of her mouth, Troy and Tyreen have many pictures.

Gets along with the twins amazingly well, it’s almost like they’ve been together forever. Will let Tyreen do her hair and makeup, will let Troy do her nails. All three of them will sleep in a pile.

Is standoffish towards literally everyone else, the bandits of Pandora remind her too much of a crazy, shitty father.

See the cultist as demons, they aren’t even lost souls, just ants on the surface of a dry ass planet, but the twins have given them a chance to seek out salvation. She just loves the part where the follows fall out of line, although she hates seeing the twins angry, she loves the killing part.

Troy

Physical

Has a pretty nasty scar on his right shoulder leading down to the area across from his ribs.

Troy protects his damaged area with a skin friendly and cushiony gel liner filled with medical beads. It hugs his shoulder and keeps his bracer in place without causing more harm to his body.

Wishes for nothing more than to be normal like his sister, he constructs a prosthetic using stolen Hyperion tech that (surprisingly) still works and sprays it his skin tone.

He has built up muscle mass (but is still skinny around his ribs) still has his eight pack (or is it a six pack?)

Will cake on so much eye shadow you wonder if it's just a part of his face. And wears more eyeliner that is necessary when in front of a crowd.

Has nipple piercings, gauges, a lip piercing, and a di-

Still has the things in his arm (because Idk what they are) that are medical ports the pump nutrition into him. And so does his spinel connecter.

THICK THIGHS AND ASS!!

Mental

Hates his body, even though he has an eight pack he loses weight at a dangerous rate, he has to eat lots of meat every day.

Has night terrors often and usually wakes up with a knife in his hand. He wishes he could muster his powers to heal himself a real right arm.

Tyreen usually has to come and calm him enough to get him back in bed, on especially terrible nights she’ll have him sleep with her for comfort.

When alone he mumbles his mother’s name like a mantra, Leda Calypso. Like saying her name with keep him from going insane.

Is angry at Tyreen for latching onto him as a fetus and almost killing him, but knows that she obviously didn’t mean to, this kind of thing happens sometimes to twins. And it’s not like she could do anything about the Leech, she was a fetus.

Doesn’t stop him from hating what happened. Even though he loves his only family member.

Has found himself thinking about very dark things involving Tyreen and blood.

Making his prosthetic look like a real arm only broke him more, but even if it looks real, he knows it’s not.

Personality

A mask of channeled angsty goth teen energy, not as dramatic as Tyreen, but when he is it’s a fucking show. Overconfident in himself and cocky.

Doesn’t like when the followers get too close to him, Tyreen, or Koetai. Will act like he gives a damn about his followers at a distance, but if they get too close? He crushes they’re skull with his cybernetic.

Is a cold and viscous beast with no remorse for anyone, will stump in your ribcage just for looking at him.

Keeps his personal saints at an arm's length, on Koetai can get close, anyone who steps out of line is, well, dead.

Behind closed doors he’s all over his machines, he loves to tinker and build. He created the blueprints for the COV’s guns, Koetai’s buzzaxe, and countless other knickknacks across the camps of Pandora.

Loves beatboxing, will make up some horrible beat in hopes that Tyreen or Koetai will rap or sing to it, can actually sing himself. Has sung the girls to sleep before.

Records personal logs for himself whenever he’s in the mood, it can be about anything, personal issues, how being the GodKing makes him feel, how there’s really only one asset in his life that’s keeping him together.

Love to bake, surprising to someone who doesn’t know him. But Troy loves sweets and it’s hard to get that on Pandora, so he makes them himself.

Tyreen

Physical

Tyreen has a matching scar on her left shoulder blade where she was connected to Troy.

She wears at least two layers of clothing to ensure it stays hidden, it doesn’t matter if it’s hot out, if her scar is covered then she’s satisfied.

Has perfected a balanced look of dark makeup to make her look grown and sexy since she has a baby face. Sharp eyeliner, dark blue or black eyeshadow, and variety of dark lip-glosses.

Works out with Troy (but not too much, just enough to stay in shape) so she has a nice four pack.

Also has piercings, cute little studs for her ears, a nose piercing, nipples too, and a cl-

Has her mother’s last name tattooed across her lower back. And has the COV logo tattooed on her right shoulder (really to match the eye on Troy’s shoulder.)

Doesn’t wear a glove on her left had (since it doesn’t do anything nor does it really match the outfit.)

THICK THIGHS SAVE LIVES, while big booties end them.

Mental

Can HEAR the Leech talking to her, trying to convince her to consume more, feed more, TAKE MORE. Has even told her to leech her brother more times than one.

Was once teetering on the edge of insanity because of the constant whispering in the back of her head, but over the years she’s managed to push it back. But sometimes the voice breaks through again.

Because of the voice she barely sleeps, it’s not like she needs to, but she can’t even if she needed to.

Loves her brother with all her heart but feels like he hates her for what she’s done. Sure, she wasn’t even born yet, but she almost killed him before he was even born.

Actually despises the fact she’s a siren, if she wasn’t a siren Troy would messed up, mom would still be alive, and dad wouldn’t have treated us so coldly.

Doesn’t have it together as much as she likes to think, would have a mental breakdown behind closed door, Troy has only seen it once and spent hours with Tyreen as she sobbed uncontrollably into his arms. She made sure to never let him witness that again.

Tyreen has clawed at her tattooed arm a few times, scratched thick deep cuts that immediately heal close, just to be scratched open again.

Only perusing the Grant Vault for Troy’s sake, hopefully all that power will keep his stable for the rest of their lives.

Personality

Egotistical and shamelessly smug. Thinks she’s big shit and that she’s on top of the world. Lives with a shit-eating grin on her face while in front of the camera.

Actually convinces everyone around her that she truly does care about of her followers (but is really still afraid of them.) Wouldn’t hesitate to punt-kick one in private though.

Enjoys followers throwing themselves at her feet to offer gifts and praise, but if anyone touches her, even accidently, they’re dead. They’re not even allowed to kiss her boots, she doesn’t want their saliva on her clothes.

When away from public she is extremely soft and sweet, kisses? She gives kisses to her brother and to Koetai, she is also pretty chill.

While Troy bakes, Tyreen cooks. She may not need to eat real food but that doesn’t mean she can’t if she wants to. Pasta, sandwiches, a fucking baked potato? You name it, she can make it.

Loves to sing, her mother said she had the voice of an angel, will perform a little concert for Troy and Koetai and feel flushed and proud afterwards.

Enjoys painting like no one would believe, has a painting station in the corner of her room where she spends a good amount of time painting pictures of her loved ones, which is only three people, not including her father.

Enjoys just, sitting outside on her balcony with the fresh air, even if the air is dry and smells like skag shit.

First time I’ve ever written anything like this and I’m sure I did it badly, still more to come, should work on a position structure or something. Also need to make a layout of the common and working rooms.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #Koetai #Troy Calypso #Tyreen Calypso #My writing #please reblog #Am I doing it?#Am I AUing?#flame angel au

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cave-of-the-owl-witch · 4 years ago

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What are you planning to be this Halloween? (Roulette. Or all if you’re up to it : P)

“Mmm... something classy and understated,” Oswald said, hardly looking up from his newspaper. “Masquerade styles are always in vogue, you know. An elegant mask, some fall foliage in my boutonniere, perhaps swap my customary black tie for a more festive orange...why, I could even match it to my hat band and pocket square.”

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

“I haven’t really thought about it this year; we Gremlins have been pretty busy lately,” Gus lamented. “I suppose if I don’t come up with anything else, I could always be a classic sheet ghost. Oh, or maybe some sort of imp? I’ve already got the horns, after all, so all I would really need is some face paint and a tail.”

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“I was thinking about going as a detective. I’ve been reading a lot of “who dunnit?” mysteries again, and it’s really got my imagination going,” Starchy said, giddily rubbing his hands together.

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

“Actually, I was thinking about maybe exploring the Internet for ideas. But, um... I kind of don’t want to go alone, considering how big the place is,” Felix said, scuffing the dirt with his shoe. “I’ll have to see if Ralph or Tammy want to come, too. Or maybe one of my buddies from Tapper’s.”

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Sawyer shrugged. “Dunno-- I’m probably working that weekend anyway. Maybe I’ll wear a jack-o-lantern shirt, or one of those stupid headbopper things.”

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“That’s a good question. I’m torn between a screaming banshee, a horrible slug beast, or a skin monster with way too many teeth,” Cybil sighed. “It’ll depend on what I have time to make after I finish my next film; it’s set to premier the week before Halloween, so I’m kind of in crunch mode right now.”

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

“I’m glad you asked, darlin’! See, I plan on appearing in full costume as the dashing Commodore Kelvin, to promote my latest movie: Star Jammin’,” Grooves enthused, even less able to sit still than usual. “Oooooh, it’ll be a smash hit! And it’s comin’ to a theater near you this holiday season!:

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

“I’m kind of leaning ghost pirate,” Gyro hummed. “I’m still working on that deep sea exploration vessel, so I’ve had the ocean on my mind for months.”

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

“I might dust off my old cowboy getup,” Launchpad mused. “Since it’s on a Saturday, I’ve gotta lead a Junior Woodchucks meeting that afternoon and I don’t want to scare the younger kids.”

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

Commander Nebula huffed. “I’m dressing up as a Space Ranger, just like I do every other day of the year. And if I catch anyone goofing off or wearing anything other than their uniform while they’re on duty, they’ll be scrubbing the cruisers until they sparkle-- save that tomfoolery for after your shifts!”

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

“Unfortunately, I cannot dress up; All Hallow’s Eve is when the veil between worlds is thinnest, which means a spike in interdimensional crimes. I will likely be spending those 24 hours hunting down rogue trolls or chasing after cultists who try to summon the Old Ones,” Three Meat sighed.

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

Shadow grinned, revealing each and every one of her shiny, pointy teeth.

“Why dress up when I’m already perfect the way I am?” she giggled. “Meaty doesn’t like it much, but nobody questions a cat out and about on Halloween. Maybe I’ll crash a costume contest or two.”

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

“Well... a few of the other elves have started to embrace the holiday-- goodness knows everyone wants pumpkin spice and spooky treats this time of year-- but I don’t think I know anyone who will actually be dressing up,” Jubilee hummed, cutting out some bat-shaped sugar cookies. “Halloween is so close to Christmas, and September through November is when we’re at our busiest.”

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

Gourdon draped himself lackadaisically across a tree stump, resting his head in one of his vine-like hands.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard of this custom. We have a similar holiday where I’m from; it’s a sort of merging of Fae tradition with mortal agricultural superstitions. Fae would go out in disguise to have fun without their deeds being tied back to them and reflecting poorly on their courts, while farmers of other races would hold autumn festivals where they would bless their harvests to protect them from thieves, destruction, and evil spirits. Both customs involved drinking and revelry, so it’s really no surprise that they adopted elements from one another over the centuries.”

“As for dressing up... well, ideally, I won’t be seen at all,” he chuckled mischievously.

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

“What am I planning to... be?” Beckett repeated, blinking owlishly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question. Also, what’s Halloween?”

#anonymous #Party in the Cave; Everyone #long post

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the-house-of-the-nine · 5 years ago

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In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 9

[ And so the journey begins. Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously. Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine? Please Like, Share, and Follow us! We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] - Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ L. K ] The group of females were now sealed in a room that was much darker than the last; there was even less natural light due to the fact that they were deeper into the crypt now.

The floor was still thick with a pool of blood that remained constant no matter where they would be going; and despite the sense of calmness that may have come over them due to the drumming beat of the hearts and the locust swarms coming to an end; they were far from safe.

Suddenly toward the back of the room they were standing in; a pair of torches would ignite in a red blaze of energy about halfway up from bottom of the wall. The torch sconces were on either side of a hall that led them deeper into the darkness.

But as they stepped closer toward the opening, another brilliant set of torches just several feet from the last would ignite similarly to the last. This would progress further and further as the lead person began walking down the chamber.

From the depths of the long red lighted corridor that again was only about 10 feet in height and 12 in length, there was a muffled sound that came across as sounding human. It echoed from the walls and seemed to surround them as they continued into the lighted hall.

The further they got, the more clear it became. It was the sound of chanting, a deepened baritone which was being spoken in a language that none of them could understand.

The closest thing they could make out is that it was a repeatable chant. The first and third line were matching and the second and fourth were different.

"sanguis autem infirma...."

Their chant would beckon them all closer, deeper into the nightmare that was being presented to them. The select few that were still alive had no choice but to press on. With Lazarius and Marseille both gone, it was clear to the group that they would have to end this; or die trying. There was no going back.

"omne cælum os eius..."

When they reached the end of the very long hall, the final torches would ignite on the exit which led out into an absolutely massive chamber. The burst of light would then begin to ignite the torches all the way around the perimeter of the room, a rhythmic beat to their glow as they encompassed the entire room with their eerie red glow.

"sanguis autem infirma...."

The room was filled with figures; all of which were hooded, cloaked and standing in a gathered group scattered in no real rhyme or reason. There had to be nearly fifty strong of these chanting cultists that all seemed to be facing the opposite wall that the group had come from, with their backs to them.

"et congregans omnes vos..."

[ V . D ] Pame had begun carefully removing the cold hard steel of her swords from her hips in preparation, her eyes glaring into the darkness without as much as a flinch-- Though to be fair the grip om her swords could have been enough to strangle a full grown human man.

It wasn't a matter of if she was nervous or not, but how long her mask of calm would last. So far it was strong and impervious, even as the suspiciously timed igniting of torches occurred.

Though it had made Pame hesitate from walking deeper, her eyes moving to inspect those remaining before facing forward once more.

"Not suspicious at all,"

Pame murmurs, then reaches to pluck a torch off the wall.

"Stay close. Wade carefully."

With these remarks lingering in the air has the kaldorei pressed forward, calmly and gracefully gliding her legs through the blood, gliding forward with minimal splash or loud waves from the tremor vibrations of her walking.

"What do you think that thing was? A grotesque mutation of Raelyndias experiments?"

Verzatea wondered aloud toward both women, her grip constantly readjusting to better hold the boy in her arms, her eyes often switching between lowering to inspect if he was well and looking back toward the path that lays ahead,

"I hope it wasnt an actual man... Ive seen that before. A test subject whos soul was twisted, broken and deformed then placed into the body of a lab created beast. T'was an awful sight.. He didn't suffer long, thankfully. Soul was too battered."

Until the chanting began... In which Verzatea's original state of shock and horror disappeared, replaced with some rising bubble of passion within. She was plain pissed. Irritated. Wounded. She'd not allow herself to be so weak as to fail those who remained, like she failed Marseille.

Right now she focused solely on the well being of all three individuals surrounding her, and as the highest ranking officer alive among them, it wouldn't look well if she started sobbing like a lost child looking for someone else to fix the problem.

Besides... Tea had beef with Raelyndia, for all evidence of her corruptible touch and what history has shown Tea of the infamous Mistress of the Nine. Tea wouldn't fall victim, and she damned sure would prevent more of her own falling victim.

And if that meant more fighting, surely she could find a good place to rest the boy before unveiling her swords and wreaking her own havoc, relieving all that pent up energy and excitement. But for now she trudged along quietly and observed, her alertness high whilst watching as the scene changed.

Even as the chanters came into vision, Tea and Pame held steadfast, watching them all closely whilst backing in to their group to ensure the four of them were close-- Safety in numbers, sure... But when the safe numbers were out numbered, alas Tea was confident in their abilities... Few in number, but not few in strength.

[ L. K ] Though it would soon become clear that they were not only expected, but welcomed. The chanters continued to repeat what they were saying over and over again, it was their mantra that caused the hearts of the intruders to feel unwelcome and unwanted.

As they got closer into the open room, the cultists soon began to turn. Their horrors bestowed upon the three women. First and foremost each one of them was lacking a head. The blood soaked stump of the jagged cut was clear that they were decapitated in the most painful of ways; multiple hacks.

The blood that seemed to be filling this place was in no short supply from these headless monsters. As they turned to welcome the intruders not only was the fact that their drawn hoods stayed aloft without heads but their bodies were exposed on the front. The robes were open completely. Each man, and woman was horribly mutilated.

Some of the men lacked genitalia, only a blood soaked stain was left. Some of the women too had been carved; their breasts taken. Many had missing chest cavities and organs that had been removed, all of them were bloodied and horrific to look at. Their flesh open and rotting; fetid to the stale air around them yet their chanting never left the hall.

“Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin, Jursol of the Zandalari....”

The feminine voice would return and shadow them like they were all expected.

“You have come, kneel and take your place within the Order of Nine. Join those who have come before you. Only then will you be free...only then will this end.”

At the furthest end of the room there was a large altar, and behind the altar was a massive glass tank structure holding a coagulated blood substance. The glass was several inches thick; no breaking it. It seemed to be resonating the sounds they were hearing.

“Do not resist, only through your assimilation will you be forgiven...”

[ V . D ] "Forgiven?"

Verzatea laughs dryly,

"From the look of things it isn't us who've done wrong,"

With this the Confessor begins to slacken her hold on the boy to lower him to the floor at her feet. A sudden wash of uncertainty befell her, a sort of sensation which had her instincts in overdrive and extra sensitive to the situation.

Perhaps it was nerves, given the high tension and Raelyndia's home advantage. But the three genuine members of the Nine were high alert, they stood a fighting chance. As Tea looked about the room her voice projected forth a query with every ounce of confidence she could muster,

"Forgiven for what?"

Though she played dumb, Tea had an idea what their sins were. Rejecting the Old Gods and abandoning the Black Empire surely didn't bode well for Nzoth and his followers, she could only imagine what they had waiting for the group if they were to reject repentance.

Thus her hands move toward her wrist, hesitating here in preparation to whip free her sword-bracelet-- But first she'd linger and listen. Pame was equally focused, her eyes moving back toward Jursol and her raptors, then to Tea and the boy whom had been sat on the floor in the blood and slumped over his own lap, his spine managing to keep him upright without aid. Pame quickly steps back, taking position to join Tea in circling the child, protecting the weakest in their circle.

[ J ] Jursol had remained on high alert, focused, silent. She followed the others from behind as they moved further down into this mess. The torches seemed odd to be lit. Something was clearly wrong here. Her eyes scanned their surroundings as they moved further in.

The sound of chanting cause her and the raptors to glance at each other. Something about it caused them alarm. Brushing it they continued onward with the others. This had to end. As they entered into a new room, her eyes cast daggers at the cultist. Grabbing her weapon as she waved a hand to the raptors.

Each one moved into a new position as they circled the group. As they got a better look at the mangled ripped bodies of the cultists, Jursol was in disbelief.

“By da Loa......not even death be sparring dem.”

Her head turned to face the body of a female. The voice seemingly coming from no where out her on edge. It was worse since they seemed to be expected.

“Who da.....”

Jursol stooped short as she listened to the female, a snort coming from her at the idea of forgiveness. She gave a sharp whistle as one of the raptors moved to surround the boy. The other two remained by her side. Jursol snarled like an animal as she glared at the female.

“We be doing no such thing. Dis be where it ends!”

Looking to the others as she readied herself.

“Dey be dead already, der must be a way ta finish dem off.”

Her gaze was on Tea, as she perhaps was the best one to know how to finished off something that is already dead.

[ L. K ] After they spoke, a chilling pause resonated before the voice responded.

“You do not understand your sins....but I shall make you see...you will bend; or shatter beneath all that I have built.”

The voice taunted them; the vial at the head of the chamber began to bubble and hiss. As the voice spoke so too did the vial. It was clear that whatever was in the massive jar was speaking to them now.

“There is nothing more you can do. You have all forsaken the Nine. A curse upon your hearts for I shall be reborn. And I shall restore that which has been blasphemously ruined in your ignorance.”

A flash of light then burst toward them as a red cosmic hand slowly tore from the ceiling; it’s dripping bloodied fingers curled around a subject. It was lowered onto the elevated platform and placed standing up. As the cosmic energy reformed and took its place as a chain noose around the neck of the figure, it became clear to them.

“Behold....”

The man was covered in blood, near death and being secured by a red energy chain that fed back to the large tank of blood substance. It was Marseille. His right arm was completely torn off, and his body had multiple teeth wounds across his legs, chest and neck. He was alive.

“At this moment I have already systematically begun reclaiming all that is mine.”.

The voice said as the chain was jerked back and Marseille stirred to life.

“You will all suffer. Scattered to the wind by my doing...torn from the place you claim and infest with your hideous stench. But... as you have left it defenseless, I am curious how many more will be decimated before I reach my goal....I sense one of you has left something very....very important in my home....”

The voice said in a sinister tone.

“Pity....”.

In case it was not obvious that was a dig at Verza, she did leave something very important at home. Something that was not easily replaced. And then the sound of laughter filled the air with her tone echoing over the chanting of the corpses around them.

[ T ] As the laughter echoed around the chamber, a new scream was heard. This one was coming from the boy, who has just been finally jerked awake from nightmare after nightmare from merely entering the damned place.

Lazarius’ absence might have also played a part in allowing him to wake. As he woke shrieking, he curled up, only to go silent in his terror as he found himself sitting ankle-deep in blood.

[ J ] Jursol looked around the room as she tried to think of something. Anything they could do at this time was better then nothing. However a plan was needed before acting. A raptor remained near the boy as he woke up. It purred as it tried to nudge him.

[ V . D ] After all was said... For a moment... There was silence. To Tea, the shock of witnessing Marseille fall into display for the women and child was but a hazy flash of blurred images.

The cry Pame let forth was a distant noise to the sindorei, even as the kaldorei was standing just a little in front of Verza. The hollering of the boy, the noise from the raptors, the chanting. The threat. The laughter. It all came full circle and caught Verza's attention, the warnings resonating in the back of her mind, its many euphemisms unraveling into dozens of possibilities.

There were many things important that Tea has left behind in places that Raelyndia could have deemed home. But only one really stood out, something so undeniably invaluable... A powerful little girl of the void, a gift from the Gods themselves.

Verza's assumption led to a stiffened posture, her face flushing with blind rage whilst stepping forward as if she would charge the tank, a growl of hatred in her throat as she snarled out with the ferocity of a scorned mother.

"If one death was not enough to put you in your place, a second time will!"

Tea growls, her claw designed nails digging into the armor of Pames extended arm, her passionate spiel continuing as she spits out,

"If I must cross the realms and enter death to deal with you myself, then I swear upon the Duskflame name your reign of terror will cease as swiftly as it began!"

Vehemently she tore and dug her words at the disembodied figure, her excitement and fear pairing boiling to a point of being full of chaotic rage.

"You will once more be forgotten, made insignificant, I will personally wipe every shred of evidence of your existence from this world!"

Before Verzatea could risk herself, and the others by abandoning the group, Pame reaches an arm out to catch the ferocious little elf. Pulling her backwards the kaldorei whispers to calm the woman.

Tea had her arms pinned to her chest by Pames single arm, the sindoreis frazzled appearance indication of just how quickly the idea of her daughter in danger could rile her.

All the while Tea squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths, looking as though she were fighting to regain her composure-- Though really she was projecting her thoughts as loudly as she could in hopes Lazarius may hear.

Brinys was possibly in danger. The Bastille was possibly in danger. Their friends, their family, and their students... Everyone was at risk now. The kaldorei then focused in on Marsielle before hissing, testing out the waters to determine if this was another trap that would set them in a hostile situation.

"Marseille?"

She was guided by pure hope that it was real. That he was still alive and capable of retrieval as she then begins to inspect the chain around his neck.

@frompage112

@siidaraykashebahl

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@pyravari-kashebahl

@whatadarkbitch

@thebladeitself

@miss-irascible

To be continued in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Part 10″

#the house of the nine #thehouseofthenine #our group #original characters #original stories #warcraft stories #wra roleplay

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rational-mastermind · 5 years ago

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A/N: Hey!! Everyone wants more Quinnvoyant right? Right?? Well too bad, it’s all I have. And an au! Soulmate au where if you write on yourself, it’ll show up on your Soulmate.

Everyone knew that if you wrote on yourself, it would appear on your soulmate as well. And Chris Quinn was no exception to this. Though, for a long time, there was only cute things like drawings of cats and rainbows and stars. Cute poems. Reminders. It was fine enough when he was a kid but as he got older it was just embarrassing. So he would wear long sleeves and hide the writing as best as he could.

Sometimes he would talk with her, but she was too shy to reveal where she lived or who she was. Which kind of annoyed him. Wasn’t the whole point supposed to be that they would meet?

When they got to high school, they talked less. Life got busy for her. Life was busy enough for him as well. Sometimes they would check in. Sometimes it would be reminders of homework assignments, or notes in class. Just kind of easily forgetting the other can see what they wrote.

Then one day, his skin started getting covered in words, very quickly. Bright red marker showed up all over his arms and hands and it crawled all over his body. The same words over and over and over.

“FREAK”

“PSYCHO”

“CREEP”

“KILL ME”

None too surprisingly, the only place she didn’t write was on her right arm. She was too busy writing, after all.

Chris found a nearby ballpoint pen and began writing.

“Et tu?”

The scribbling suddenly stopped. For a moment he was worried. But then the ink began running off. It looked wet and began to run down his arms.

Tears.

After watching it a moment he began writing himself.

“What happened?”

“Bullies.” was the eventual reply.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s true.”

“Same.”

“What do you mean?”

Chris sighed. He knew he wasn’t like other kids. They would all avoid him, be afraid of him, or talk about him weird just cause he talked about blood and death and demons and stuff that went bump in the night. He wasn’t gothic. Not by a long shot. He just...liked gore. He liked pain. He once got into a fight. One of the kids had a knife.

He couldn’t stop giggling.

There was something so...so thrilling, when he saw the red.

The voices in his head only encouraged it.

“I’m a psychopath.” he wrote.

“I don’t think you are.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Well what makes you so weird?”

“I… hear voices… And… I see things.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I’m told it’s not-”

“Me too.”

Chris stared at the two simple words. Somehow, it utterly stumped him. He felt...weird. He wasn’t sure why though. But he wasn’t entirely opposed to it.

“What kind of things do you see?” he asked.

“It’s hard to describe. Sometimes it’s people. Sometimes it’s just screaming. Or loud talking. Sometimes it’s colors and random pictures. What about you?”

“More about dogs and demons and the end of the world and shit.”

The rest of the writing on his body started to disappear. She was wiping it off.

“Can we switch brains?”

“Yeah, yours sounds more fun.” he chuckled to himself. After a moment’s thought he ventured forth to ask. “So what do you imagine I’m like?”

“I don’t know. When I try to read you I get this weird image of something dirty and gritty like a horror movie. But at the same time, I also get this...warmth.”

“Warmth?”

“Like a towel out of the dryer. It’s warm and soft and it feels like home. It’s funny... Reading your words…”

Chris felt a bizarre fuzziness grab hold of his brain. The world seemed to darken around him as she continued to write.

“I can almost see you

Christopher Quinn”

Suddenly Chris felt very uneasy and quickly began rinsing off their conversation and scrub the words away. An unsettling chill surrounded him. It was weird. It was creepy. It was...sexy?

Chris then proceeded to dunk his head under the sink and run cold water over him as well.

They stopped talking after that.

Chris got into writing. Finished high school and began making his living.

Then the asylum.

Then the Shadow.

Then the Ministry.

Chris went through so much hell. Of course it had its positives. There was Trilby and kicking demon ass. A good use of his psychotic tendencies. Making the world safe from the Shadow and keeping magic a secret. The people around the Ministry weren’t too bad. Yarrow was a bit...boring. But Jim was fun to mess with. And Claire was fun. There was always something to do, even if that something normally made Trilby roll his eyes.

Then one day, well… It was bound to happen.

Trilby was going to be out of action for a while. A mix up with a vampire left him incapable of going on assignments with Chris. But anyone who ever called Chris a “loose cannon” would recommend that he got someone to tag along in place of Trilby. Someone responsible and level-headed.

Well who better than the absent-minded psychic he was pounding in the off hours?

Yeah they were knocking boots. Nothing to get too attached over. It’s not like Chris got to know her life story or anything. Just letting off a bit of steam whenever they could hook up. All he knew was that she was very very much a psychic. Something he found interesting and she found best kept swept under the rug, much to his own disappointment.

At first she seemed hesitant to go on a mission with him, but after some convincing, and a lot of unusual head shaking and slicing motions from Trilby behind her, she finally agreed.

It was a simple mission. Done and over in a day. Of course it was the traveling that took the longest. It was on the farthest end of Ireland, naturally. It had some cultists and brainwashing and something to do with summoning a pagan deity. Claire was a natural and it was actually kind of fun getting to do work stuff with her.

They were traveling back and Claire was already writing up their required report on a notepad. Chris couldn’t help but notice the way she gnawed on a pencil as she tried to focus. The way her fingers drummed through the air like she was at the computer back at HQ, if not fiddling with her large, round glasses. The way the air around her became still and focused as she accidentally projected her feelings about them. Chris could practically hear the gears grinding away in her brain as she tried to recall every needed detail.

He chuckled to himself and it instantly snapped the tension in the air as her brain derailed.

“What? What’s funny?” she asked, looking up.

“Nothing. Just.. I dunno.” he shrugged. “You’re so focused.”

“Well… I mean..” she shrugged as well. “It gets kinda hard to report faithfully.”

“Eh those pricks in the higher-ups always find flaws in our reports. No matter what.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Hm. True.” Claire sighed. “But it’s not just them. You go looking through so many different minds, so many different vibes and lives it’s kinda easy to forget what’s happening in the real world. You know?”

“Well.. No. I wouldn’t.” Chris glanced back at her.

“Oh.. yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.”

Chris chuckled again.

“Hey by the way, you were pretty great back there.”

“Hmm.. I wouldn’t say that.” Claire shrugged.

“You kidding me? The way you fucked with that one-”

“Ummm.” Claire interrupted and Chris noticed she looked horribly uncomfortable as she fidgeted with her glasses more. “If.. If it’s all the same Chris.. Can we not talk about...that?”

“Oh.. Right. Sorry. Forget that makes you uneasy.”

“Just…something drilled into me, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Chris spoke up.

“Hey um.. Can I...ask something?”

“If you wanna know if I can predict the future, the answer is no.” Claire rolled her eyes.

“Damn.” Chris clicked his tongue in disappointment. “....Did you always hate your powers?”

“Mm..” Claire was quiet for a moment before she shrugged and looked out the window of the car. “What was there to like?”

“Um, cause it’s fucking psychic powers.”

“Yeah, exactly.” she sighed. “They always got me in trouble.. It.. Creeps a lot of people out.”

“Come on. It couldn’t have always been that bad-”

“No. It was.” Claire growled, her voice taking on a tone akin to earlier that day, but somehow lacking the same venom behind it. “It was always that bad. It was awful. You’ve no idea.”

“...Well… Like what?”

“....Like earlier.” Claire shrugged. “But.. By accident. I would...hurt them.. And scare them.”

Chris frowned. Claire was normally so bubbly, happy, a bit forgetful, but chipper despite the depressing and horrific nightmare that their livelihood was. He hated seeing her this downtrodden. It was wrong. Like on a fundamental scale, this was just wrong.

“...Did.. Something traumatic happen?” he asked. “Something that made you hate it so much?”

Claire gave a dry chuckle before replying. “I wouldn’t say...traumatic but.. Well.. It did drive a wedge between me and some really important people.”

“Was there a guy?”

“....Yeah…”

Chris felt something grip him. A sudden kind of deep-rooted anger. The kind akin to staring down a vampire or some other unholy abomination. Not counting Trilby, of course.

“Who-”

“Should get some gas. Before the ferry.”

Chris sighed but found a station and pulled over. Clearly she didn’t wanna keep talking. While he was filling up, she went inside to use the bathroom.

“Look over the report. Jot down anything I missed, got it?”

“Yeah..”

Chris felt crummy and stupid and angry. Claire was a great person! Why would anyone hate her for having psychic powers? Okay yeah so she kind of really mentally fucked with that one guy. And yeah okay so maybe she kinda caused another to have an aneurysm. Yeah sure that might’ve been a more common problem when she was a kid and yeah it might’ve been like Stephen King’s Fury, but so?

And it’s not like Chris would’ve hurt this guy…. Much.

He growled and kicked a tire before getting back in the car. He sighed and leaned against the wheel, waiting for Claire to return. That was when he noticed Claire’s notepad left laying on the space between their seats. Oh right.. Reporting.

Chris sighed and grabbed it. He looked over the notes. Everything seemed in order. She left off at the part where cultists were about to start sacrificing the local children but she’ll likely finish jotting down the basic plot when they got back. Chris grabbed the ballpoint pen she had been using and was about to go back and fix her grammar when something caught his eye.

A small doodle Claire had in the corner. It was a cat.

Chris squinted and looked it over carefully. It looked familiar.

Suddenly it dawned on him. He had seen this before.

Chris’ mind started racing, putting all the pieces together. But.. But how could he prove it? And how could he prove it without worrying Claire?

Chris then looked back at the pen in his hand and had a perfect idea.

Meanwhile Claire was hiding in the bathroom. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was gonna be horrible! She knew this was gonna happen and she just had to keep playing with fire, didn’t she??

“Stupid stupid stupid!” Claire banged her head on the wall. “Listen! To your! Intuition!!”

Of course she knew who he was. Ever since the first day Trilby introduced him at the STP.

Claire and Trilby were discussing the differences in using iodized salt compared to sea salt, though ultimately, they both knew pink Himalayan was best. But then Claire felt it. A familiar presence.

She suddenly felt an oncoming wave of giddy excitement that made her almost tremble. And a familiar warmth that quickly wrapped around her like a towel fresh out of the dryer.

“Claire? You okay?”

“Think someone’s-”

“Trilby! We gotta go do a thing with cake- Oh. Hey.” Chris had rounded the door to Trilby’s cubicle but stopped short seeing Claire.

“Hey.” Claire waved.

“First of all, never again. Secondly, I never introduced you two, have I? Chris, meet Claire. Claire-”

But she already knew who he was. But a deep anxiety prevented her from saying anything. But after getting to meet him, within all of five minutes she forgot entirely, simply living in the moment. And then she forgot again when they agreed to meet up after work. And she kept forgetting to a point it would’ve felt awkward to start saying anything then and gosh dammit.

‘Claire, why do you do this to yourself??’ she sighed and stepped out of the bathroom. ‘Always have to make everything awkward and weird…youfreak Can’t just remember to freaking speak up and say what’s on your mind?’

Claire only hoped Chris would drop the subject and they could return to their normal status quo. At least she got to see him. At least they got to talk face to face. It was better than what most people could hope for. After all, some people never find their soulmates.

‘But they write every day.’ her unhelpful thoughts reminded her as she returned to the car. ‘When was the last time we wrote to each other?’

She opened the car door and-

“I KNEW IT!!!”

“Aah!”

Claire stumbled back, tripped on her heels and fell backwards onto the pavement.

“What the hell, Chris?!” Claire scolded as she picked herself up.

“Take a look in the mirror!”

She got up and looked at her reflection in the window. She gasped, seeing a rather crude doodle of a cat across her cheek. She looked through the window only to find Chris with a matching mark and a wide grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” he asked.

Claire stammered, laughed, and ended up crying. Her heart was pounding, she felt scared and worried. Chris’ smile disappeared and he got out of the car and came around to her.

“Hey.. Hey hey hey. Hang on now.” he came over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What? What is it?”

“I thought you’d hate me.” Claire managed to get out with a hiccup.

“I know.. I’m sorry.. I didn’t hate you. I never did! I just.. You…”

“Scared you.. Like.. I scare everyone.” she sniffled.

“No! You didn’t scare me! I just.. I.. I dunno.” Chris shrugged. “I was a dumb teenager. I didn’t know what I was feeling.. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry…”

Claire simply shook her head. Chris ran a hand through his hair and thought for a moment.

“...If it’ll make you feel better I could still kick my ass.”

Claire laughed. She choked and then giggled some more and finally started wiping away her tears.

“Please don’t.”

Chris smiled and hugged her tight. She weakly hugged him back.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know..”

After that, they began writing to each other more and more often. Little notes, here and there.

“That was a lot of fun last night.”

“There’s coffee in the breakroom.”

“Fought a ghost. It was gross.”

“Kissed one the other day.”

“I’m stealing the last slice of cake. Don’t tell Trilby.”

It was nice. It was fun. It was one thing that Claire would say was normal about their lives.

“You wanna do something else after work tonight?”

“I got a new cat figurine!”

“Got to see the sunset while on the job. Reminded me of..”

“Hey you’ve been quiet. You okay?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“I love you.”

#chzo mythos #quinnvoyant #chris quinn #claire #soulmate au #my writing #rational writing

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cuddlywritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Declivity into Holy Fire

Genre: World of Warcraft

Characters: Guntharius Plaguespitter, Raustul Shadeshifter, Father Lanstarth Mourningsworn, Sunwalker Kagun Petalhoof (brief), Clayton Whatley (High Seer of the cult of the Gaze of N’zoth), Jendrick Camden (unnamed Paladin in this story; later named)

Characters mentioned: Taviast Duskwither

Timeline: N’zoth’s appearance and presence on Azeroth; Wrathion’s whole questline, and endgame of BFA.

Trigger warnings: Strong language, violence, prolonged suffering, gore, and the general description of an incredibly intense battle and the description of a character’s suffering

- - - - - - - - - -

“BRACE YOURSELVES!”

A whirlwind of fire buffeted the group, but a stalwart figure bared the brunt of the attack.

Sunwalker Kagun Petalhoof had kept his comrades unharmed by the use of his shield, blessed by the Earthmother’s grace and love. The maniac mage’s fire slammed into the wood and the metal, causing the shield to creak and moan in its abuse, but it yielded all the same. The human didn’t last, however, and before he could throw out another fireball, his chest caved in thanks to the Sunwalker’s axe.

“TO YOUR LEFT!”

The mighty Tauren spun, allowing the bluish blur to streak past him. The Death Knight and ex-Crusader, Father Lanstarth Mournsworn, had pinpointed his target and, with a mighty swing of his sword, the sharpened edge sliced through the Worgen rogue that had just manifested to their left. The cut was clean, letting the Worgen’s lower half collapse forward and his upper half to slide off to the side. As the bloodied chunks and visceral organs of the furred magician spilled unto the ground, another cry of warning erupted forth.

“ABOVE!”

A volley of arrows from two elven archers rained down on the group, but a demonic snarl caused the two to back up, alarmed. Raustul Shadeshifter, leaping through the air, slammed into the ground in front of them, felfire flames erupting at his cloven feet. With a sickening shllick-shliick of his warglaives, the two unfortunate Kaldorei collapsed into each other, blood streaming from the stumps where arms and legs had once been.

Guntharius Plaguspitter supervised it all. He had shouted the orders and the warnings, keeping his unit safe. As one of the higher ups within the Circle-- and as the head representing the Horde factions-- it was his sworn duty to keep his comrades safe at all costs.

He stood there resolutely, a hand clamped down tightly on the shoulder of the slumped form beside him. The human they had captured moaned softly in pain. His hood had fallen away from his face, and it no longer obscured the twin crimson rivers that trickled down from his hairline. The bastard was garbed in the unholy vestments of a cultist and, by the looks of it, he had employed many different kinds to his cause. Even two of the most ancient, noble races-- the Kaldorei-- had been perverted by this madman’s ramblings.

They had received information about an uprising in cultist activities. But how could that surprise anyone? Eldritch horrors were abound as Uldum became steadily overrun by blathering, mindless cultists. Many had become transformed in the wake of the Old Gods, spouting tentacles from their faces where tentacles should never, ever be. It was a disgusting affair that sickened the warlock to his very core.

Their information gathered had pointed to this man: a high cultist by the name of Clayton Whatley. Untransformed (for the time being), he had quickly amassed a following to further pervert and brainwash with the drivel of the Old Gods themselves.

Guntharius had to reflect on just how things had gotten so bad. From the plight of the Zandalari and the Kul’tirans clashing, to the affairs of the shebitch-- the Warchief, to the civil war within the Horde… now they had to contend with the Old Gods.

He never did like the Old Gods. Found the whole thing to be one giant nuisance.

The squelching of pierced flesh brought the warlock back to his senses. There they were, still in that decrepit building, routing out the hovel that had become this Cultist’s base. A blasphemous attempt at an Eldritch church, the warlock glanced repulsively at the signs of mental decay all around him. From the crumbling structure of the walls to the broken, wretched pews and the smeared, inky demonic runes smattered along torn tapestries and smudged on any space available… it was a travesty in the works. It was dark, dank, and it stunk of mildew. Pathetic. Disgusting. Inferior.

Whatley moaned again, and the warlock snarled in Eredun, threatening him with a fate worse than death if he didn’t shut up.

“OI! GUN!”

Guntharius looked up sharply to see Raustul, splattered with the gore of his enemies from horn to hoof, waving him down.

“It looks like we’re done here,” the mischievous Demon Hunter said with a satisfied grin.

“Yes,” the warlock conceded, blood staining the hem of his robes as well. “It would appear that we are.”

Indeed. The pathetic excuse for a maddened church seemed to now be vacant. Dismembered bodies lay strewn about the filthy cobblestone flooring in an array of chaos. A few gurgled out a plea or two for mercy, but a merciful death blow from the pious Death Knight himself put an end to their suffering.

“You’re too kind on them,” Guntharius snapped at the deceased Crusader, watching Lanstarth return to the rest of the regathered group. “They deserve a slow, agonizing death for what their kind has brought to Azeroth.”

“They have received their punishment,” the Death Knight coolly replied, his tone as flat and monotone as ever. Sword point resting against the ground, he stood there, like an ever vigilant guardian, awaiting his next orders. “The Gods and their Light will punish them now. I do not torture my enemies,” he continued after a moment’s pause. “I am more than a reanimated thrall of the Lich King. I am still a holy man at heart. I will not torture in the name of the Light.”

“Feh. You holy types. Self sacrificing martyrs with an egregious complex.”

Sunwalker Petalhoof looked worriedly at the two of them, listening to the conversation. His ears began to droop a little, and he rumbled out his deep, profound voice, “we have our target. We should return to the others, before they get worried. We’re already late on returning, and Mr. Duskwither wanted us back before it got too late...”

“True, true.” The half-blooded Demon Hunter waved a hand about as he rejoined the group, the warglaives sheathed back on his back dripping with blood, flecked with some skin and brain matter and perhaps a clump of hair. “I mean, er… all due respect t’ Kippen and the boys of intel, but, we were supposed t’ not have a big fight here. Our information an’ whatnot said that this guy wasn’t goin’ to have a sermon tonight, and we could’a just gone in, collected him, and popped out.”

As the Tauren nodded his shaggy head, the warlock rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You think things always go as planned, Shadeshifter?”

“Er--”

“You may be older than I am,” the warlock testily admonished, “but you are still a child as an elf is concerned. And it clearly shows.”

“Hey! Accordin’ to my age, I’m a fuckin’ adult! Thank you very much!”

Father Mourningsworn looked towards the Tauren as the two bickered. He gave the Sunwalker a look of slight concern, and with a tilt of his head he silently alluded to a question. A question to which the Tauren responded with a nervous snort and a tiny smile.

“HA! An adult? By what standards?”

“By my standards!”

“You two,” Kagun began, but his words were cut off by the harsh, almost crowing laugh of the Forsaken.

“Oh, really!” Guntharius took a few steps towards the Demon Hunter, causing their hapless captured cultist, one Mr. Whatley, to fall backwards and hit the ground with a dull, almost comical thud. A soft groan escaped him. “Is that all you could come up with for a retort?”

“--yes?”

Lanstarth patiently closed his eyes. Ever the polite knight, suffering through the asinine bullshit that seemed to crop up from time to time within his son’s order, he somehow, by some sort of miracle, retained his composure. He could endure. He would endure. He had sworn an oath to be the stalwart pillar of this organization, for better or for worse.

“YOU ACTUALLY ANSWERED THAT!”

“H--HEY! SHUT UP!”

Amidst the warlock’s cawing laughter, the Sunwalker uneasily moved over to the cultist. Picking the man up by the back of his hooded robe, he slung him over his shoulder. “Come on, you two,” he said, interrupting the two from further discussion. “We need to get him back for interrogation.”

“Yea,” Raustul grumbled, just a bit bitter from being shown up as much as he had been. Sulkily he jabbed his thumb in the warlock’s direction. “Let the good doctor here be a sick fuck an’ torture the poor sod for information.”

Hearing the vitriol in the Demon Hunter’s voice, the warlock flashed him a nauseatingly pleased smile. “I was hired for a job, Shadeshifter. And I am damn good at what I do. Admit it.” Moving up to the Demon Hunter, he waved a hand in his face. “Admit it: I’ve gotten us information in the past that has turned the tide in many of our endeavors.”

“I am going to bring him back,” the Tauren said, speaking primarily to Lanstarth. He saw how those two were at it again. Clearly they wouldn’t listen to reasoning. Seeing a nod of affirmation from the pious Knight, he quickly dug out the Circle’s hearthstone from his pouch, and rubbed his thumb over the curling peacock symbol, activating it. With a glowing spark of energy, the magic whirred softly to light. “I would advise you three do the same.”

Guntharius’s laughter crackled once more as the Demon Hunter went to grab him in an armlock. As the two tussled and fought, Lanstarth watched as the Tauren’s form dissipated in a soft haze of magic. The cultist, slung over the Sunwalker’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, had moved. Right before he, too, disappeared along with the Tauren’s visage…

….he had weakly looked up towards the Death Knight and, in a pained daze, had smirked at him.

The image burned into the noble Knight’s mind, and he felt a chill scatter down his spine. This was not the chill of death but, rather, the chill of a trap. The chill of something gone horribly, horribly wrong.

“...you two...”

Raustul paused in grabbing a fistful of the warlock’s hair. He had turned to look towards the Death Knight, but his expression changed, all too suddenly, from an irritated expression to one of absolute surprise. Guntharius, upon seeing this change as well, let his gaze move up towards the Knight and past him, his attention directed towards the darkened back of the church.

They only had a second warning before the attack came. The air was suddenly electrified with energy. A great crackling was heard: a whirring that sounded like something large, and blunt, being spun at high speeds. The noise climbed up to a crescendo until, within those precious brief seconds, it became deafening all in its own right.

A flash of bright light lit up the darkened, derelict corner of the crumbling church, and it hurdled through the air towards them at top speeds.

“FUCKIN’ FEL!”

Raustul lunged forward, driving both of his comrades down to the ground. Heat sizzled overhead as the streak of light swung high above them before arcing, dangerous in its projected trajectory, before whirling right back towards the corner it had manifested from.

The three of them knew what had happened and, yet, their brains could not register the plain truth.

The streak of fiery light that had lashed out above them in that terrifying arc had been a holy hammer attack.

There was a paladin within this corrupt church.

----------

Guntharius felt a sickening sense of dread as that realization hit him. No, not just hit him. The acknowledgement of what they were facing had assaulted him like an avalanche of boulders crushing his indomitable will in one devastating move.

They were dealing with a holy madman.

Pressed to the floor and covered protectively by the Demon Hunter, the warlock could hear Raustul’s frightened exhalation of breath. Shaky and trembling, it revealed the spike of fear that had pierced the heart of his brave comrade. In that moment, Plaguespitter felt a surge of protectiveness. So close to the Demon Hunter and the Death Knight, he wanted to say some sort of encouragement, but his words were drowned out by the whirring of another hammer attack.

He rolled out of the way, just as the others scrambled to avoid the attack. A great crash signified that the hammer, this time around, had obliterated some once-sacred object, now perverted and twisted by all standards.

“Lanstarth! Raustul!”

A spitting flame of light licked out towards the warlock, and he managed to fling up a demonic spell of protection. He bared his teeth in a savage snarl as the glow burst against his darkened shield of sulfurous properties. It sizzled and popped against the writhing, twisting darkness, before fizzling out to a hissing whimper.

His resolve grew, as did his anger. With a vicious gesture he slashed at his own fading demonic shield, shattering it to pieces, along with what remained of the holy spell. It burst about him like a withering firework, its dying embers scattering to the grungy flooring.

He could see the paladin now. Robed and garbed in the same dreadful attire as the cultists, this particular madman bore pieces of plate armor to complete his garish assemble. His hooded face hid the twisted holiness of the man who stood before them, but it was obvious that this paladin had fallen. Not enough to lose touch with the light entirely, but on his way to falling from grace altogether.

A blur beside him became the lunging form of Raustul. The Demon Hunter swung his warglaives in a great frenzied flurry, his adrenaline backed by his fear. The warlock (thanks to his heightened undead feral senses) could smell it on him, musky and suffocating.

There was the spark of clashing metal, and the Demon Hunter skidded back a few feet. A patch of skin on his upper arm sizzled with holy energy, and he winced in agony at the burning sensation.

Thudding footfalls heralded the Death Knight’s charge. Father Mouringsworn, the pious knight from beyond the grave, threw himself into the bloodied jaws of battle. His sword was brought down in a valorous strike, but it was halted and stopped short from its perceived target by the sturdy Paladin’s shield. A spray of sparks lit up the dim atmosphere, and Lanstarth’s face was lit by the unholy, sinister glow.

They had to leave. They had to leave now.

Guntharius heard the deranged Paladin bellow out some inane, maddening babble. Half holy, half insane, the Paladin’s words were easily swallowed up in the flare of another out-of-control fiery attack. The Warlock shouted out to his comrades, but it was too late.

With a cry of pain, Raustul’s form crumpled to the floor. The Paladin had charged him with his shield, bashing him backwards. And as the Demon Hunter had stumbled over his own hooves due to lack of balance, a well aimed slam from the insane lightbearer’s hammer attempted to cave in the elf’s ribs.

Guntharius had heard a bone snap. He swore he had.

As the Paladin stood over Raustul, crying out his insane unholy mantra of purging, the warlock let loose an unrestrained blast of shadowy energy. It crashed into the Paladin’s breastplate, causing the human to reel back from the force as darkness licked at his robes. It gave them just enough time for the Death Knight to rise to his feet and take advantage of the distraction.

As Lanstarth’s blade met the hammer once more, Guntharius rushed over to the fallen Demon Hunter. Falling down to his knees beside his suffering comrade-- no, friend-- the Forsaken pressed his chilly fingers to the elf’s wrist.

His pulse was erratic… but strong enough.

“Raustul,” the warlock worriedly hissed under his breath. He cupped the Demon Hunter’s face. “Raustul! I need you to look at me!”

Dazed and shocked, with the wind knocked out of him, the Demon Hunter frantically looked around before letting his gaze settle on the Forsaken. He tried to sit up, but pain caused him to fall back to the floor, the back of his head bouncing uselessly against the stone.

“Don’t get up,” the Forsaken whispered softly. As the sounds of clashing metal and thrown attacks reverberated in his ears, the deceased doctor gently ran his hands up the elf’s sides. “Don’t move. Stay still, focus on breathing.”

“What are y--” Raustul winced.

“Fool! Stay still. Breathe deeply, slowly.”

The Demon Hunter did as he was told, even as he heard the struggling of the Death Knight. He swallowed thickly, feeling how gentle and kind the Forsaken’s touch was. “Gun, h--hey--if we don’t make it out--”

“I am your doctor, and your friend. I won’t have you speaking like that. Now, listen to me, and relax.” His fingers glided over the sides of the elf’s bare chest once more. He pressed them to a tender area, watching for any reaction. “What do you feel?” Flicking his gaze over to the elf’s face, his mouth set itself into a concerned scowl. “When you breathe… what is it like?”

“Soreness,” wheezed the elf.

“Intense pain? In your chest? Sides?”

“J--Just sore. M’ sides, mostly. Stings a fair fuckin’ bit, b--but I think I’m alrigh’.”

Retracting his hands, the Forsaken couldn’t determine if the hunter simply had the air knocked from him, or if a rib had, indeed, been broken. He’d have to get the elf back to headquarters in order to properly examine him.

Wait.

Headquarters.

Reinforcements!

In a fit of maddened passion, Guntharius began to dig through his medicinal pouches. Raustul tried to get his attention, but it was useless. As the sound of caustic, cadaverous magic clashed with unholy light blighted spells, the Forsaken found himself moving faster out of sheer desperation.

“What are you--”

Finding what he was seeking, the Forsaken grabbed the Demon Hunter’s hand and pushed into his palm his own personal hearthstone. “Take it.”

Confused, the Demon Hunter tried to give it back. “I-- I have my own,” he gasped out. “It’s s--somewhere on me. I can j--just---”

“There’s little time,” the warlock hissed. “I need you out of here, in case you’ve broken ribs. I can’t tell, Raustul. I need to examine you properly.”

“But I--”

“I won’t let you die here,” the Forsaken snapped urgently, hearing what sounded like a pew behind him splintering under the weight of plate-wearing bodies. Like the sound of snapping, fracturing bones. “I refuse to lose you to some feldammed holy man. I need you to go back to headquarters and alert the others. We need reinforcements if we are to--”

There was an audible bellow of pain, and the sound of sizzling holy fire. Guntharius turned to look just in time to see the Death Knight stumbling, his armor smoking and sizzling from a potent holy strike. The Paladin was before him, so overcome with maddening glory, his hammer raised high in the air.

A burning smell pervaded the air. Guntharius looked down towards the feet of the Paladin, and he could see a burning holy ring of consecrated ground beginning to form. It was warped, of course, and had suffered mightily from the transgressions and sins of this sick man of the armored cloth, but it still retained enough holy energy that the Death Knight would surely collapse.

Death Knights. That was right.

The warlock remembered, vaguely, a conversation Taviast Duskwither had with him. About Death Knights, and their incredible sensitivity towards the Light. So profound were their weaknesses towards holy energy that even beneficial holy based healing could do more damage than good.

And this Death Knight… he was Taviast’s father.

Time seemed to slow down as the warlock rose to his feet. Taviast Duskwither. The thought of the elf brought back the recent memories he had with the Archmage. The chat at midnight, sparing the elf from drinking himself into a depressed state of oblivion. The conversation on the ship, where he tried, desperately, to get the elf to let out his repressed anger and emotions for once. Always had the elf played the part of a genial puppet: always bowing before the people and helping them, never allowing himself to mourn, or grieve, or speak out with his own set of formed opinions. Swallowing his negative emotions, letting them fester within him like a sickness, only to smile and laugh, and suffer on for the people of this corrupted world.

Behind him, Raustul wheezed as he got up on his hands and knees. The Demon Hunter was saying something to him, but the warlock didn’t hear him. Not over the words pouring from his own mouth. Not over the spell he heard uttered in his own voice.

A green demonic circle appeared beneath him.

This Death Knight, Lanstarth, was their noble guardian and knight. Pious to the end. There was something honorable about his patience and his silence. Something courageous, and admirable. The warlock had to admit he almost envied the Knight. There was once a time when he, too, had prayed to the Light. But unlike the Knight’s resolve, he had lost his faith in the Light far too long ago. And when he had been murdered, he had perished (beaten within an inch of his life, drowning after being unceremoniously chucked off that cliff) without a scrap of loyalty towards the divine concept.

Lanstarth was Taviast’s father. And the Archmage… he had already mourned his death once. For him to mourn again would be truly, awfully, wretched. And he didn’t deserve that. Lanstarth did not deserve that. Neither of them deserved this.

A green demonic circle appeared within the building ring of consecrated fire.

Again, Raustul’s voice. The urgency of his tone was dulled out by the roaring buzz in the warlock’s ears. Guntharius knew he should summon a demon, but he had dismissed them due to the cramped quarters of the derelict church. A foolish move, perhaps, but he couldn’t risk his demons causing harm to his comrades through friendly fire.

Besides… he knew how to fight without his demons just as well as he knew how to with his demons.

Taviast’s face appeared in his mind’s eye once more, and he recounted his own previous words. How he told the Archmage that they would talk about the elf’s problems later, in order to properly address them.

He had wanted to help him. He had wanted to help let out the elf’s anger, before it ate at him from the inside and devoured him whole.

He hoped, in the end, that the Archmage would reach out for help. To someone, anyone. After all, the old elf deserved a little peace of mind.

His attention returned to the present. Raustul’s vocal buzzing grew. The whistling increased. The world around Guntharius began to speed up. The roar of the crackling, growing flames overtook all of his senses. The voices of his demonic comrades shrieked in his head, forming a cacophonous waterfall of chaos and disorder.

The Paladin had become engulfed in a holy Light that, unsurprisingly, had garnered a tarnish of taint along its searing edges.

Time sped up. Guntharius felt his body rip apart and reassemble itself in the clutches of his felbased magic. The remaining vestiges of his form disappeared from Raustul’s sights, only to reappear within the consecrated circle. The warlock, facing Lanstarth, with his back towards the Paladin, allowed his body to become entangled with his own facet of fel. Wisps of shadow and greenish, putrid fel energy encircled his being. His single glowing eye burned brightly as he channeled all his energy into a single blast.

A blast that he aimed right at Lanstarth.

At such close quarters, the Death Knight was thrown back. He flew through the air, and crashed into the ground, skidding all the way until he was stopped by Raustul’s trembling hands.

The Death Knight laid there, his softly glowing blue eyes widening in shock as the Demon Hunter hastily searched him for injuries. The plate had absorbed most of his impact with the ground, and the blast that he had sustained from the warlock had been more for force, and less for actual damage. A decoy, more or less. It had been a spell used to push him out of the way, not to harm him.

Realizing what had happened, Lanstarth sat up just in time to witness the purging act of judgement upon unholy, blasphemous flesh.

----------

“There we are,” the Forsaken said, easing the elf into bed. “You just rest now.”

He had helped Taviast back to his room, making sure the old elf didn’t drink himself into a stressed out oblivion. He had gotten him into his sleeping gown, and had aided him in unbraiding his ridiculous hair out of that topknot.

The conversation from before had lingered with him. He had talked to the elf, hoping to snap him out of his grief and fear. He had brought some sense of clarity to him, and he had witnessed the beginning of his maturity and acceptance. For being several thousands of years old, Taviast Duskwither was still, very much, in quite a few aspects...

“I’m not a child,” Taviast sulkily huffed as the odd Forsaken made a poor attempt at tucking him in.

“I’ll stop treating you like one when you stop acting like one,” he had haughtily replied.

Taviast Duskwither had sighed as he situated his bedcover. He had taken the moment and studied the Forsaken’s face, and he had sworn he saw something familiar behind the deadman’s single glowing eye.

“You… are so incredibly kind,” the Archmage had murmured softly. His voice had been diminutive in his room, as if they had trespassed upon sacred ground and were not allowed to speak in the presence of unknown, hidden elders. “So… human. You’re human, Guntharius.”

The warlock had been folding the Archmage’s robes, putting them away in his dresser, when he heard the Archmage say that. It took him by surprise, and he momentarily lowered his guard. A small smile formed on his face as he looked over at the Archmage.

For all this time, since his rebirth as a damned walking corpse, he had protested and rebelled against his fate by declaring that he was not a Forsaken, but a human. He had known how preposterous it was. He was mad, but he wasn’t that insane. He had known he was a Forsaken now. He was once a human, but he would forever be classified as a Forsaken now. Still, by saying he was as such, it helped ease the turbulent emotions stirring within his deadened heart.

“You’re human,” the Sin’dorei had pressed. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“...Funny, hearing someone else say that for once.”

Moving over to the bed, Guntharius had sat down on its edge. Reaching over, he took the top of the cover and he brought it up, almost lovingly laying it against the elf’s breastbone. Just low enough that the elf wouldn’t feel choked by the thing.

“You’re fighting a war within yourself,” Taviast suggested. “Aren’t you? You are. I know you are. You fight this war daily. I see it in the way you hold yourself, the way you speak, the way you--”

“Yes,” Guntharius had softly replied, interrupting him without a sense of hostility. “I am.”

“You don’t need to fight this alone.”

“I don’t,” the warlock had confessed. “I have you all. I have my family.”

He had confessed to the elf that the entire Circle was his family, and that he truly did enjoy their company. He had explained, then and there, that he saw how Taviast treated himself, and how he knew that the elf was slowly poisoning himself with negativity.

“I once did the same,” he had whispered to the stunned elf. “Technically… I still do, Duskwither. I haven’t changed. And I doubt I will. Especially now that I am dead.” He had glanced towards the ceiling, imagining the broiling sky above the castle, heavy with an oncoming thunderstorm. Even Azeroth was weeping for Saurfang’s death. “I don’t want you to become me,” he had confessed honestly. “I want you to embrace your negative emotions, and deal with them. Don’t let them fester within you until they finally explode out, and you can no longer control your rage. If you let that happen, you’ll regret whatever it is you end up doing.”

“Guntharius--”

“No, Taviast. Listen to my words. One day you’ll have to make a choice. And you’ll have to choose what’s right, and what’s wrong. And when you do… I hope, to the Gods that don’t exist… you do what’s right. And you won’t hesitate to allow yourself to show your negative emotions. Do not hide them. Embrace them as much as you show off your happiness. You are allowed to show emotions other than happiness, you know. If you wear your mask for too long, you’ll forget what your face really looks like.”

They had sat in silence for a long time after this, each simply enjoying the sacred hush and the comfort of each other’s company. After some time, the Forsaken had bid the elf goodnight, and had returned to his own chambers.

The Forsaken had known that the elf had sobered up for the most part, but he also had known, at that point in time, that Taviast wouldn’t take his words to heart. Not just yet. In due time, he would. And in due time, he would have to apply the wisdom he had taken from the Forsaken.

Until then…

Guntharius had allowed himself time to rest that night, and he had dwelled over his new found family and the mere fact that he would try to help them and heal them, in any way possible, but Taviast’s own plight would be tricky to transverse.

He had come to the conclusion that night… that, perhaps, the reason he was often so harsh on the Archmage was that they were so much alike. They both cared too much, and felt passion too keenly, and strongly, to ever possibly ignore it.

They would also both protect the innocent.

Up until the very end.

----------

Guntharius had twisted expertly in order to meet the Paladin’s blow of finality, but he had misjudged the rabid fervor of the insane holyman. Throwing up his hands, the warlock attempted to conjure his demonic shield once more, but it was too late.

Holy flames erupted upwards from the circle, swallowing up his perpetually chilled flesh. His fel fueled demonic shield wavered and flickered within the holy assault, and within a matter of seconds it shattered under the unrelenting force.

The craggy, unholy scream that ripped out from the warlock’s mouth, as the holy heat licked at his flesh, raked through the air with a catastrophic effect.

Guntharius threw back his head and shrieked as he felt the fire sizzle and pop on his flesh. Wrapped up in the inferno, he could hear the long, whistling howl of the demonic entities connected to him. All of his demons yowled in agony.

Even Ka’jiros. Even his beloved demon-- his friend, his guardian. He swore he could hear Ka’jiros suffering alone in his agony, too, even though the entity was not there beside him.

Through the curtain of holy light and flames, he could see the hysterically mad smile of the twisted Paladin. The sheer torment of his holy judgement clouded his sense of being, and he felt everything, and nothing, all at the same time: sensation overload and total numbness.

He felt a ripping within him, and he knew that his soul was threatening to tear free from his physical form.

This was it. This was the end. Finally, it would all come to end. Situational irony, at its best. Basking aglow in the fires of holiness corrupted, he swore he could feel, at long last, his heart beginning to beat once more. One final beat, before the gaping grave welcomed him once more.

And then there was silence. His screams ceased, despite his jaw locked open in his fit of howling, the damaged skin on his cheek stretched taut from the action. His shrieking had abruptly ended in a crackling gurgle as everything left him, all at once.

The fire pulled away from him, and Guntharius vaguely saw the Paladin backpedal quickly out of surprise.

The burn of the fire still remained on his flesh as he felt his legs give out on him.

His gaze locked itself on the ceiling, as if waiting for some sign that a deity would land the final blow and smite his blasphemous soul from this world. He didn’t seem to pay any mind to the sounds of conquest, even as the ground itself blackened from the unholy sigil of a furious Death Knight.

In his disjointed, shattered mind came the names and faces of all the people he had befriended over the years. Members of The Circle. His adopted brother. His family. His father. His mother. All of his friends, and all of those who had impacted his life. Smiling faces and hearty laughs over dinners spent together in the castle’s dining halls. He thought of all the people he had met along the way, and the friends he had made: orcish, elven, and every other possible connection.

All the happiness he had shared with these cherished people, even when he tried hiding it, had been his most treasured gifts. The joy he had felt in the presence among those he considered to be family. He had celebrated accomplishments with them. He had aided them in their own battles-- personal, demonic or otherwise. People he had guided, nurtured and trained. People he had protected and given wisdom to, even if said wisdom was harsh at best. He had partook of a great ceremonial hunt, that had meant everything to him. He had enjoyed cookies with new friends-- a mercenary and a human, one who had the brightest inner 'little light' he had ever seen. He had met some rather interesting trolls, and had enjoyed learning about their culture. And he had even attended a wedding and played his role in it, witnessing the start of a new life and adventure.

These were people he had loved, and still loved. People he had cared about, and still cared about. Everything blurred together in a rush, escaping him like a runaway reel.

He had given life, and his uhlife, it all. And now, as the pain washed over him… he realized he didn’t regret a thing.

His skin tender and hot with the fever of a third degree magical burn, his body quaked and trembled with force as he was cradled close, tenderly and protectively, to the chest of a familiar Demon Hunter. He didn’t even take notice of the wavering, soothing words that were spoken to him, or the fingers lightly combing through his hair. And he didn’t seem to care about the teardrops plopping onto his cheek from above.

However, there was one thing Guntharius Plaguespitter was aware of.

And before he could solidify the conclusion he had come to, he felt a burst of clarity and peace within his body and soul... before his vision bled to black.

#Cuddly writes some things

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gliitch-effect · 5 years ago

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Ok I had the most terrifyingly vivid nightmare last night and it’s a wild fucking ride so buckle up. Uhhhh tw for...a lot of stuff but mostly gore/death/cannibalism/all that good shit

[[MORE]]

The dream starts normally. I and..I guess a small group of other people (including a combined version of two people I’ve had crushes on??) move into this mansion in this super rich neighborhood as some sort of project. I don’t know if it was a TV show or a fundraiser thing or what but we just had to live there. Ok, no sweat. This house is massive and the neighbors seem fine if not a little overly friendly.

Time goes by and nothing of note happens as we get closer to the end of our time in the house. Some of the people end up leaving and then it’s just me and crushcombination. I end up comforting him because for some reason his family shows up and like, yells at him and is heavily misgendering him and whatnot. He starts crying and hugging me and I ask his family to fuck off in the most passive aggressive sickly polite way I can, and they do. He apologizes for that and we become friends.

The next night my mom appears and gives him this weird sedative medication that works like eye drops but on your neck? However I get some on me by accident. And it turns out we were given way too much so we’re drugged out of our minds, start seeing ghosts, and I end up slipping and cracking my head on something. When I wake up, we’re alone on the last day. I say my goodbyes and then it’s just me in the house. I take one last look around and prepare to leave and then something catches my eye down a hall. A person? I go to investigate and see a man setting up all these wires/ropes.. and I accidentally step on one.

(Here’s the nuts part.)

He grins wildly at me and immediately I’m pulled by my foot through this maze of these wires and strung up on a wall, held there by the ropes and these fans that are blowing too strong for me to move. I panic because now I’m the only person left. No one is going to check on me. The guy himself is like, maybe 17-18 and skinny, dressed in this weird...gothic punk attire but his hair is matted and he’s got blood on his face. I ask what the fuck is going on. He says “I knew I’d catch one of you! Oh this is great. The others will be so pleased.” He begins digging through a container of sharp objects. I manage to break one of the fans with a desklamp on a shelf near me and that gives me a little wiggle room to try and get the ropes off but I’m also trying not to anger him enough that he just kills me right away. I get free ans start backing away but he chases me into a small office room, so I’m pressed against a wall on top of a desk. I learn that he’s gonna kill and eat me with his friends/family and that they do this every time a new group moves into the house, but now it’s his turn and he doesn’t want to mess up. “Don’t worry, I’ll gut you quickly. I just want to see your insides, come here..”

All the while I’m trying to talk him out of it. He seemed kinda..idk how to explain it, naive? Kinda like this is just all he knows. I manage to convince him that I broke the fans and wanted to get free because I was scared, and that I won’t run if he’ll just talk to me first. He seems stumped for a second and then relaxes. I’m slowly backing up towards a window next to me at this point and every time he turns around I try and get it open. But it’s duck taped (not very well, but it’d still make noise and it’s still sticky) so now I have to cut it or try and pull it off.) Finally when he’s far enough away I just try and undo it as fast as I can, and he comes at me with the knife to stab my stomach. I grab a pair of scissors he knocked over and slice his throat. But he doesn’t die right away, just staggers back a little. I feel sick but I have to stab a few more times, the neck and finally the chest until he dies. It was..disgusting. At that point however I heard heavy footsteps, his brother (much scarier looking than him) was coming to check on his progress. I slipped through the open window and climbed onto the roof, and luckily he didn’t end up finding me.

Once back on the ground I begin to leave. I tried calling the cops with a phone I found but they hung up on me, so I just start to leave on foot. But as I leave the neighborhood, all the friendly neighbors come outside, grinning ear to ear. “Where are you going?” “Leaving so soon?” Then I hear a little girl excitedly wave to me and say “Hey hey! Weren’t we gonna eat you? Are you ours now?” Everyone is mumbling to themselves about like...how if that guy’s family didn’t kill me, maybe they could claim me for theirs. The entire fucking town was this weird cult of cannibals who..I guess got rewards for being the family to capture outsiders and eat them, and that was a pretty important rule it seemed. That also explains why the cops didn’t listen, they were likely in on it and have had previous victims call them before. I fucking booked it and the only reason I made it out was I hid in this bush and their search parties didn’t find me.

It was the weirdest damn shit and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that amount of adrenaline and fear in a dream in a long time. I never have to resort to killing but I couldn’t find another way out. Nothing I can normally do in dreams was working and my brain thought I was actually going to die, considering I could feel pain and everything. Anyway it was fucking awful and I want to know where the hell my brain got all that, but I mean. If any group of people were gonna be cultist cannibals I guess I’m not surprised it turned out to be gated community rich people in mansions.

#nightmares #sabi dreams

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years ago

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i have so many theories!!! theyre all screaming at me!!! i must write out them all!!!!!

so here’s one that’s been knocking around my head since finals week began:

the Writing 3 Playlist on Spotify

I think this bad boy is a hint at the game’s timeline

maybe not 100% explanatory, but I think we can guess certain parts of the game through this

and i just wanna tell y’all now, almost all of this is speculation, as honestly im 90% sure the playlist was created bc it had borderlands-y songs in it (although the last few have me scratching my head)

lemme explain why im writing this, though I’m very thirsty for lore

tl;dr: game goes like this: lilith powers stolen. go to promethea, go to jungle, find brick mordy and tina, get into a fight, lose fight, go find other VHs, get into another fight, Krieg shows up to save Maya, maya die. (oh no she ded), the twins have their we are GODS moment, the VHs get summoned to the Eridian homeworld, there’s a huge ass final battle, someone attempts to create an end-of-the-world scenario

so the playlist itself was created to help one of the authors of the game get into their borderlands jam

it starts with a Cage the Elephant song, “Trouble”, the band of which we all know wrote the first song used in BL1. Not really much else to say here, but we do know the opening cutscene of the game involves our current team of Vault Hunters being attacked by the Children of the Vault. this is, of course, not indicative of any songs used in bl3, but we can assume it captures the general feeling of the game.

Second song: “Fire” by Barns Courtney (holy shit I love this guy so fucking much!! if you’ve never listened to his music, PLEASE do so! I really recommend “Rather Die”- I am in the process of making a bl3 animatic to it actually lmao).

So anyway, I’m just sayin’, the lyrics of this song...

“Oh, a thousand faces staring at me Thousand times I've fallen Thousand voices dead at my feet Now I'm gone... And my mother told me son let it be Sold my soul to the calling Sold my soul to a sweet melody Now I'm gone... Oh gimme that fire ...”

Honestly, I would not be surprised if this song was about Lilith’s loss of her powers. I mean, she used to call herself the Firehawk because she burned the shit outta bandits. c’monnn.

The man, the myth, the legend himself even says that "[The song is] quite defiant as well, like this cannot be how it ends, it cannot be my situation."

Mooooving on

“Majesty” by Apashe and Wasiu

holy fuck i love this song so much. and its so very obviously about the Calypso Twins- at the very least its Tyreen.

“All the stars and galaxies address me as your majesty So better say your majesty, I might react erratically Throw you in a fire, purify you I'm the sire, my empire's on the rise You better find yourself a place to hide Your place to find, but say it twice My name divine, I'm aimin' high Don't look in my face or eyes Take a bow and save your life Glory to the emperor, my temperature is risin' Always hot, it's getting violent”

I mean come on if its not when we meet the twins for the first time after they steal lily’s powers, then its definitely when they do something absolutely badass and really show us why they’re revered as gods. Possibly related to the Holy Broadcasting Center?

“The Way I Do” by Bishopp Briggs

this one honestly had got me stumped as to its purpose, i lowkey kinda think its getting Sanctuary 3 up and running (and possibly meeting Maya for the first time- still not sure about that). I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a whole thing for Scooter and this song fits pretty well. I imagine we also meet Vaughn and the Children at some point, so maybe here?

“Greeting the Menace” by Zack Hemsey

yeah i uhhhh dunno. This sounds like a song about a dude getting tortured which scares me a bit lmao.

I thought maybe this song and the next 2 could be VH-based songs, as the next 2 have no lyrics whatsoever and the third is called “Best Friends”, but who knows... If this is the case I could make the argument this is about Zane or Moze, leaning towards Zane cuz he’s pretty covered up, plus I think “Best Friends” would be more Moze’s style lmao

I could also see this being a song about Troy... could explain all the ‘body mods’ and the missing arm.

“ProtoVision” by Kavinsky

If we’re going with the idea that these next few songs are about the Vault Hunters, then I imagine this would be Fl4k’s. It’s got that synth and some guitar which I think fits perfectly with his robo-hobo aesthetic lol

Other than that, I truly have no idea what part of the story this song could reference since there aren’t any lyrics. Maybe Promethea’s city? I could kinda see it, it sounds pretty high-tech

Similarly, “diatribe.” by Oliver Michael

the beginning gives me a whole meditation vibe which I kinda associate with Amara and her phasecast skill which “sends out an astral projection” of herself.

Then again, this could be the outskirts of the Promethean city... I could see myself wandering around the huge ass foliage and discovering an abandoned research base to this song idk

“Best Friends” by grandson

aaahh i love grandson. I think this could be a Moze-based song. I just get that vibe from her leather jacket... anyway

I also could totally see this as discovering Brick, Mordecai, and Tina in the research base (if that truly is where they are). Cause we saw them in the trailer hanging out there.

tbh the lyrics themselves kinda remind me of pre-Tales Rhys and Fiona and all their friends

“All of my best friends Like to go and get fucked up Then they talk about all the lives they never got to live Oh, they're still waiting for some sort of invitation It's never coming along, oh no, you'll get just what you give”

but idk if that’s what its meant for

“Bap U” by Party Favor

hmm another ‘lyricless’ song. not really lyric-less but uhhh the lyrics are pretty nonsensical lol

I could see there being a fight scene with Brick Tina and Mordy as AIs helping out here, maybe exploring the abandoned research base?

“Not Human” by elegant slims

oh you know what im going to say here hahaha

monster troy p l e a s e

i wouldn’t be surprised if Tyreen started accumulating more powers here, like perhaps the previous fight scene was over the Vault on Promethea and the twins were able to access it before us? and Tyreen gives the Vault Monster the succ

“Crack in the seams You're breaking through The animal inside of you You're not human anymore... Your eyes go black electric blue The animal inside of you Life on a string Watch it swing Hide your teeth”

and one (or both) of the twins start going feral lol

“Way Down We Go” by KALEO

one (1) fear and that’s that someone dies during the scene that corresponds to this song

hopefully its just the boys being depressed over a loss instead of a victory, but oof

anyway, you know what they say: “sometimes you gotta fall before you make it big” ;) thats a typhon deleon quote

“I’m a Wanted Man” by Royal Deluxe

I want to believe these next few songs are us recruiting the rest of the Vault Hunters not seen yet

I kinda associate this one with Axton since his whole History with DAHL, but who knows! It could be Gaige, too. or Maya since she looks like she’s being incredibly gay criminal on the Maliwan Monastery planet. Maybe both Axton and Gaige? I would love that

“The Devil You Know” by X Ambassadors

Could also be Axton! I lowkey think its Salvador or Timothy Lawrence. The reason I think its Timothy is cuz the whole song gives me huge Handsome Jack vibes, but it could also be Sal cuz I totally imagine him becoming a bounty hunter to fund his gun addiction lmao

“00000 Million” by Ella Vos

this one also gives off Maya vibes imo. I wouldn’t be surprised if this one is about her and the introduction of Little Blue. I could also see Athena and Janey here, just living their lives out in a cottage somewhere. awww

“Jungle” by Tash Sultana

Ahh a love song [pukes] Hopefully this one is about Athena and Janey, cuz there is a depressing lack of both of them in all the trailers we’ve seen! It sounds lowkey sad, though. I hope nothing happened to them D:

“Don’t Wait Up” by Dustbowl Revival

this one gives me very big Fiona and Sasha vibes.

Of course, there’s also the fact that the song is about a dad, and we still don’t know who the heck “the Father” is on all those Calypsos posters. We also dunno who in the heck “Mother” is, either. Sounds like Father left the cult, though, oof, and Mother stuck around. Wonder what that’s all about, maybe he felt like the twins were working fast/efficient enough and left to do things himself? Very lost on this idea tbh. the song seems very out of place, but it has to connect to something, yknow?

“Dies Irae” by Apashe and Black Prez

For those of you who don’t speak fluent Latin (the fuck guys?? lmao jk), the title means "Day of Wrath". Nice, nice, nice.

the lyrics, you might be asking:

“'Cause I'ma beast. Where you at? I've been unleashed. Whatchu doin'? Sink my teeth. Y'all can't fathom I'ma beast”

me: [vibrating in my seat] monster twins monster twins monster twins monster twins

at the very least this is definitely a fight scene here. Probably with the twins again (hopefully). Maybe they found some way to imbue the cultists with fucked up powers and are sending them against the VHs as giant demon things and as we fight through the temple (apparently with some Guardians) we realize the final one is Troy and/or Tyreen?

I like to imagine this is where Maya gets her powers stolen, if only because the next few songs... I think she’s around because she’s now the only person with Siren powers on the side of the Crimson Raiders, so they might need her help with the Vault in some way

“RAMPAGE” by GRAVEDGR

y’all wonder why I seemingly forgot about Krieg in the above songs? Well, this is why.

The only lyric for this entire song is “Bitch, I'm on a rampage- mask on my damn face”

I mean come on, Krieg with his psycho mask on, the fact his action skill is literally called “Buzz Axe Rampage”, the fact he loves Maya as shown in his introductory trailer... it’d be so perfect. And I bet badass psycho Krieg would be the only thing able to beat back whatever’s attacking at the moment. I’m just imagining him smashing down a wall and going apeshit

“Black Out Days” by Phantograms

Another song I think is about Krieg and Maya. I don’t think Maya does too hot in this game, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she gets the Roland treatment if you know what I’m saying. I wonder if this causes Krieg to devolve back into insanity cause the whole song seems to focus around that. I hope not D:

“Hide the sun I will leave your face out of my mind You should save your eyes A thousand voices howling in my head Speak in tongues I don't even recognize your face Mirror on the wall Tell me all the ways to stay away”

To be honest I could also see it being that Maya gets her powers stolen and thoughtlock-ed by the twins to fight on their side (as she’s seen fighting with the big demon elemental things), and maybe we have to kill her or hurt her in some way to get her to stop attacking us. God I hope not.

Let’s hope this is someway about the twins and definitely not about our favorite Siren and/or Psycho

“The Finishing” by Stavroz

oof i think somebody dies... If its not Maya, my best guess is Krieg or Lilith. Maybe Mordecai or Brick? Oh I hope not, I love both of them way too much for it to be healthy. But, hey, at least Tina learned some coping mechanisms :(

“Intro” and “Apocalypse Please” by Muse

merged these into 1 because Intro is like 15 seconds long and is literally the introduction to Apocalypse Please.

Definitely reaching the end of the game here...

“And it's time we saw a miracle Come on, it's time for something biblical To pull us through And pull us through And this is the end This is the end Of the world Proclaim eternal victory Come on and change the cause of history And pull us through”

I think the twins (or whoever may have become the main villain- perhaps the Eridians?) have claimed victory/gotten the ultimate power in one way or another, and/or this is the Crimson Raiders getting themselves ready for a final stand-off with the big bad evil guy.

I would really love if there’s a scene right at the end of this where the Twins have their huge “BOW TO ME” moment and then they just get COMPLETELY obliterated by a new villain. Just absolutely decimated.

New villain, like if they opened a Vault and whatever was being imprisoned there just wipes the floor with them (something like the Destroyer, if not the Destroyer itself), or fuck shit maybe even Tannis? or the Eridians looking for help in the war. or the Eridians bringing war. Who knows!

Again, could just be the Twins having gotten their hands on the end-game material, like realizing they can turn troy into big demon fuck (no i am not letting this one go) and we are kinda fucked now.

“Free Animal” by Foreign Air

I... have no idea lol

maybe Krieg getting rescued, maybe (one of?) the twins getting recruited by the Raiders for the final fight? It could fit into the ‘Beast’ imagery. Fuck, maybe even rescuing/finding Typhon or something? Idk, im kinda in the party that Typhon is going to be coming back some way or another lol, I’d love to meet the guy

“Dreams” by ZHU and Nero

This definitely sounds like a new BBEG has just been introduced or the big bads just entered the final phase of their plan, like the Crimson Raiders just learned about something life-changing and this is their “oh shit” moment

i wanna believe that the Eridians or another alien race (like the Seraphs!) are going to come in at the ‘end’ of the game and the Watcher is gonna be like “bitch did you really think I thought these dumbass ECHOnet streamers were the epitome of War??” I imagine we’d be on the side of the Eridians here, since y’know, the Watcher came to us for help.

Of course, the twins could still be the BBEG and have gotten their hands on that universe-destroying power that was described on the website (”to recover a map to ancient Vaults and prevent a universe-destroying power from falling into the wrong hands”) so maybe the Eridians called us in in order to meet and get help against the COV?

“Beyond the Fray” by Cassandra Violet

personally i think this one is about the Eridian homeworld

“I'll mark the day When we can meet beyond the fray Don't lose the will to see your home You find the way so we can meet beyond the fray I'll fight to see that you get home Consider this small clue Look beyond your point of view Make a space for honesty hide“

Wouldn’t even be surprised if someone made a sacrifice so we could get there... I imagine its hidden somewhere in the alternate dimension or wherever the Vaults lead to so it couldn’t be found, so maybe Lilith’s got her powers back at this point and she sacrifices herself to send us there?

idk...

“Outside the Realm” by Big Giant Circles

ah yes, another reason I think the end of the game involves the Eridian homeworld in some way. Have you heard this?? huge “we just stumbled upon a long-lost-alien-planet” vibe. I love it. Maybe even just a shot of Sanctuary III slowly gliding over the giant planet, having just exited phasewalk. God yes

“Battle Royale” by Apashe

another reason i think the final fight is some giant battlefield/wave fight instead of just against 1 or 2 enemies. not to mention the fact that the VH skills we’ve seen so far are crowd control based instead of raid boss focused.

Its likely the VHs against the Cult of the Vault, but if we defeat the Twins halfway through the game, then the Cult will dissolve on its own. Either way, I really really really really really want a huge fight against an army. I don’t care if its against the Children of the Vault, the Eridians/some Guardians, or if its against the Seraphs or a new set of aliens we’re gonna get (maybe whatever the Destroyer was/is?). idk idc i just want a huge battle. I imagine we’re on the Eridians’ side, as I said above, but who knows, maybe the Watcher went rogue.

oh and also, the next song:

“Doomsday” by NERO

oh hey, I recognize this song, it’s giving me major BL2 flashbacks lmao

Also the last song in the playlist, which is giving me the big fear (tm)

I imagine that we wouldn’t have been brought to the Eridian homeworld if it wasn’t kind of a huge deal, and what’s more of a huge deal than the end of the universe?!

that’s what i’d call doomsday, anyway.

could be the reason the Eridians are coming out of hiding after all this time. Either to stop our dumb human asses from opening the Vaults, or to get help against these alien fucks because our dumb human asses keep destroying their first line of defense- the Vault Monsters.

If the twins actually DO remain the main villains throughout the whole game, then I imagine this is them prepping to destroy the universe

but maaaan i really want some aliens... maybe the universe destroying power IS the aliens? aw hell yeah

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #the calypso twins #writing 3 playlist #im so dead inside #maya the siren #maya #krieg the psycho #krieg #eridians

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abzanascendancy · 6 years ago

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In Today’s Magic Story...

Return to Dominaria: Episode 12

Here it is! The thrilling conclulsion! As the gang began to infiltrate the Cabal, surprise Yargle! Can they defeat him in time?

I agree, everything was going so well. But to be fair, nobody expected a cabal agent that got turned into a maggot that got eaten by a frog and turned into a spirit to interrupt their plans.

Well of course Yargle’s immune to death magic -- he’s already dead!

Actually, now that I think about it, I’m wondering whether Yargle was planted there by Raven Man and/or Bolas to force Liliana to draw on more of her resources...

How are panther warriors different to control than human warriors? That sounds rather racist, Liliana.

Oi, where’s Tiana? Her beloved Weatherlight’s being attacked here, you’d think she’d be front-and-center.

Wait a sec... if Jhoira’s on deck... THEN WHO’S FLYING THE WEATHERLIGHT???

Oh wow! Liliana actually saved someone’s life!

Ah, Tiana’s flying the ship. I’d think that’d be a job for Jhoira, as Tiana is a literal angel with angelic powers suited to fighting evil, but that’s just me.

"My owl has one of the mana-charged burners I constructed to use against the Stronghold." -- Jhoira.

You phased out Shiv when Teferi phased out Zhalfir. You weren’t involved in the Phyrexian Invasion. You didn’t construct jack sh*t to take out the Stronghold.

Unless this is referring to taking out the Stronghold now, in which case carry on. Still, y’all got a history lesson.

Yes, indeed. This would be the second time Liliana has experienced vore. No, wait -- third. Forgot about the Razaketh incident. As we all probably did.

If you think that pit’s a nightmare, you should’ve seen it when Chainer was around.

Gideon you muscle-headed idiot! They’re fighting for their lives, not for the Cabal’s amusement!

Ah well... at least he’s not using his ~ETERNAL AEGIS~. Y’all are lucky I don’t have Photoshop anymore, I would’ve made sparkly-as-f*ck text art for ~ETERNAL AEGIS~.

But back to my point, he’s re-learning traditional combat instead of being ‘Oh look I’m invincible! I don’t need to worry about petty things like blocking!’

So wait... Gideon isn’t affected by the dementia magic? Or was he just not there when the spell was cast?

Tall... muscular... dark hair... blue-gray skin... Is this Radha???

Can’t be. She’s using a sword. Radha would just use her bare fists and leave her sword clean.

OH SHIT IT IS RADHA!!!

SLIMEFOOT!!!

Liches and other spiritfolk had been drawn by the battle and gathered in the trees below.

We have zombies, and then we have liches. All liches are zombies, but not all zombies are liches. It takes a lot of work to become a lich, while any ol’ b*tch can raise up a zombie.

They all looked up. Who are you to ask for help? they said.

THIS IS SLIMEFOOT! YOU LISTEN TO EVERY WORD THEY SAY!

Slimefoot’s made friends! :D Still wanna learn more about Yxarit.

I thought you were calling something to help in the previous story...

‘That thallid’ has a name, Liliana: it’s SLIMEFOOT.

An elemental? I think that sounds like Muldrotha!

Corrupted is a strong word, Jaya. She’s just going through a phase.

YEAH YOU GO GIRL! DROWN THAT MOTHERF*CKING FROG SPIRIT!

The thallid stumped over to Jhoira's side. She looked at it, her brow quirking in amazement. "What did you do?" It waved at her.

SLIMEFOOT YOU’RE SO PRECIOUS--!

Now Jhoira used some of her mana-charged burners in the fight against Yargle. Can she make it into the Stronghold with only some of them left?

Chandra’s just tripping cultists while everyone else in the pit is just trippin’. ... I’m not apologizing for that joke.

If I watched any of the Mad Max films, I’d make a Thunderdome reference.

Chandra you better burn that b*tch before she kills your friend.

I’m really glad we’re seeing some more Chandra development here! She’s controlling her flames and conserving her strength!

Nice shot, Radha! If Whisper survives this, she’s gonna get a b*tchin’ eyepatch!

Okay, you can probably tell I’ve watched Thor: Ragnarok recently, but I’m envisioning Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song playing as the Weatherlight is just cruising through the defenses.

Actually, that’s the second mana-burner. The first was used against Yargle.

Fiercely pleased with the destruction so far, Liliana said aloud, "This is going well."

...

Nominated for the “Spoke Too Soon” Award!

Raff said, "Uh, I wish you hadn't said it, too. I have a bad feeling about this." He raised his voice. "I think that's Urgoros!"

The Empty One??? YEET!

They don’t even know where the treasury... wait, didn't’ they know where the treasury was in the last story???

I like this crop of Memorial to Genius. It’s perfect. Nothing of value was lost. All the good bits remain. Everything important.

Now it’s important that Chandra’s fire is white-hot here. Why? Because red can’t destroy enchantments! :D ... I’m not apologizing for that joke either.

I’m imagining Night on Bald Mountain is playing here as Urgoros flies forth.

Karn stepped forward, his metal head turning as he tracked Urgoros's progress through the rain and ash-clouds. He said, "It's a powerful lich. But like the spirits created from the purest dark magic, it's never been human."

Um, actually, specter is its own creature type. Liches are zombies, not specters.

Well of course you felt nothing, Liliana. It’s a specter, not a zombie.

OH SHIT! URGOROS IS THE VOID!

Betcha appreciate angels now, don’t you Liliana?

Liliana pushed herself up, dazed. Who was flying the ship? She looked back toward the bridge and saw the green shape of the thallid gripping the ship's wheel. Oh, that's all we need, she thought.

YOU’RE RIGHT LILIANA THIS IS EVERYTHING WE NEED!

Slimefoot waved at her. -- The Complete Story of Dominaria (Abridged)

Liliana is going to use cat warriors to land on her feat. Also, kudos to her for getting them to fight in water.

This is an adorable seen with all these spirit creatures helping Liliana and I need art of this!

He could feel the dark power of it burning through the leather into his hand, and he didn't want to use it on anyone except Belzenlok.

Oh really? Really, Gideon? Don’t want to use it on anyone else? Don’t want to use the blade that slew an Elder Dragon on anyone else? Not even another Elder Dragon? Not even an Elder Dragon that’s gonna swoop in and snatch Liliana from you? Not even an Elder Dragon whose name rhymes with Tickle Bro-Lass? Just gonna use it on Belzenlok and nobody else? Sure...

I want to go back to Dominaria and see more of these Miyazaki spirit creatures!!!

Belzenlok has a sword? That isn’t the Blackblade? The Blackblade that slew en Elder Dragon? He’s not wielding that sword? Really?

Radha instantly takes command of the spirit army, natural born leader that she is.

Belzenlok swung around at Gideon's approach, then tilted his horned head in recognition at the sight of the Blackblade. "That sword is mine! I forged it to kill an elder dragon."

I hate the kind of person that believes their own propaganda... I mean I hate propaganda in general, but this is a whole other evil. There’s people who know what they’re doing is wrong yet do it anyways, then there’s people who believe the wrong their doing is right.

Gideon and Belzenlok circled each other. Suddenly sounding like a cunning demon and not a deluded megalomaniac, Belzenlok said, "I smell Planeswalker. Who are you?"

Ooh, interesting! What other senses do demons have? Or is Belzenlok just well-knowledged?

Belzenlok bared his fangs again in a grin. "You. The Gatewatch. I know what's planned for you. It almost seems a shame to kill you now. Almost."

Someone’s on Nicol Bolas’ payroll!

"You're weak, Liliana, and you always have been. Who but a weak-willed fool would sign a pact with me?" Belzenlok, Demonlord, etc.

He’s got a point there.

Liliana’s way with words is gonna let her win a battle! Wound his ego!

Putting every ounce of contempt she had in her body into it, Liliana started to sing a satirical version of the Rite to Belzenlok Raff had composed.

Bless you Rafwyn Capashen, for composing this little ditty...

Okay, so not quite the artwork, but still a good story moment nonetheless!

His horns, still intact, clattered to the pavement.

Souvenir!

She looked down at herself, but the lines of her pact were still written on her skin. I thought it would disappear, she thought, her brow furrowing in confusion. But maybe that had been a forlorn hope; just because the signers of the pact were dead didn't mean it had never existed.

Yeah, I’m sure you’re just being paranoid! What could possibly go wrong?

Give it a few paragraphs, Liliana. You won’t be feeling so hot anymore.

I wonder what else is under the “worry about it later” category. Probably “how I got Teferi’s spark and don’t just say mana-rig ‘cause that’s a bullsh*t explination and I know it”.

Yeah, Teferi met Radha during Time Spiral.

So Teferi’s the only one joining the Gatewatch, but Karn and Jaya are still chipping in to defeat Bolas. I guess?

Slimefoot was giving its children a tour of the deck.

There ya go! The Weatherlight lives on!

It was late in the day when Jhoira stood on the court with Liliana. The spirits had dragged away most of the bodies, and Jaya had melted the Stronghold's doors closed. Not that Jhoira expected that would stop whoever decided to occupy the place next.

There’s still Phyrexian archetecture in that place. Give it a few years and you would’ve wished you left someone to keep an eye on it. Instead, you get Phyrexia v3.0!

Aw, come on! We dont’ even get an extended Oath of Teferi? Boo!

Good luck trying to destroy New Phyrexia, Karn! And by that I mean fail miserably.

Ah yes, the Phyrexians are in the past. Because we have a New Phyrexia!

I think this section is it. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for...

They would just have to get over it; Liliana intended to stand over Bolas's corpse. And hopefully make it dance for her amusement, if anything was left of it when they were finished.

And now, a moment of silence for what will never come to be...

And now, how planeswalkers planeswalk!

Gideon: golden light storm, like a disco ball probably

Chandra & Jaya: ring o’ fire, b*tches!

Teferi: time warp whirwind

Karn: metal noises

Liliana: doesn’t Wait, what?

I’m imagining the “Guess who’s back” part of Eminem’s Without Me is playing as Bolas makes his entrance.

"You really should have read the details of your pact more closely, Liliana. You seem unaware that with your demons dead, your contract defaults to its broker. Me." -- Bolas, Loan Shark Dragon

Quick question. Are/were the terms of Liliana’s contract ever laid out? I mean I guess not ‘cause otherwise she would’ve gotten an Azorius Lawyer to look for loopholes, but still! She’s a party to them, she ought to know!

The others stepped into the new plane--

Stop! Unless they’re going to gather new allies, Ravnica is not a new plane for Gideon or Chanda. Where are they?

Oh f*ck off old Jace. This isn’t the new Jace we got in Ixalan. This is a grave failing of the story team, and we shouldn’t forget this moving forward.

Can’t you follow Liliana’s aether trail? I’m sure Bolas did some shenanigans so that you couldn’t, but do try at least!

Aloud, he said, "Wherever you are, Liliana, I hope you know what you're doing. And I hope I see you again. Truly."

Sooner than you expect, Gideon. Sooner than you expect...

And we did it! We finished Dominaria’s Magic Story! Dominaria is saved, whoever this imposter is calling himself Jace is ready to make some plans, and the gang’s getting ready for the Ravnica storyline! We got Yargle! Acid! Mana-charges! History! Almost Vore! Punching! Gideon not being invincible! Radha and her abs! Slimefoot! Muldrotha! Waving! Liches and zombies! Pits! Eyepatches! Chandra development! Miyazaki spirits! Led Zepplin! Yeet! No more Urza! Color pie jokes! Specters aren’t undead! Slimefoot flying the ship! Gideon definitely not gonna use the Blackblade again! Propaganda! Limericks by Raff Capashen! Ignominious defeats! Slimefoot, tourguide! Oths we don’t actually see taken! Bolas the Loan Shark! Not Jace! Foreshadowing!

But will Slimefoot stay with the Weatherlight or go back to Yavimaya? Will Phryrexia rise from the Stronghold now that no one’s watching it? What steps has Jace taken since we saw him last, back in Rivals of Ixalan and not whomever that charlatan was on the Weatherlight? When will Gideon use the Blackblade again? Can Chandra reunite with her gruulfriend? What’s Bolas been up to in the meantime? What allies has Ajani been gathering?

AND WILL WE...

...

shit this is the end of the Dominaria story... we probably won’t get Slimefoot in the next story....

...

But will we get Battlebond story???

Stay Tuned for the Summer of ‘18 Story Drought!

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zedecksiew · 6 years ago

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Kitting Survivors

The town of Kitting, flattened by calamity. Its surviving townsfolk have made lean-tos by their temple’s sole remaining wall. Thousand-yard stares, soiled clothing, bruises.

Identity -- This survivor has:

1: A coolie brand. Disaster has had a levelling effect; with their owners dead the town’s slaves are free. Temporarily. 2: Mendicant robes. Voluminous, lined with pilfered coin and jewellery. A pickpocket. Her shaky hands are just an act. 3: Ritual scars. A cultist of the Sign of Pain. Preaches holy suffering. Considers recent events an ideal object lesson. 4: A gaurboy’s hat. Kitting’s herds are scattered about the hills. Stubborn beasts, they only obey voices they recognise. 5: Boning knives, fleshing knives. Severe, monosyllabic, deferred to by others. A master butcher late of Abattoir Lane. 6: A silver abacus. A shopkeeper. Previously seen hugging a strongbox. Not any more. Where has that gone, then? 7: Shadow puppets. Animate gilt-leather figures, whining like ingrate children. Their troupe- mistress looks harried. 8: Prayer beads, looped around the waist. A votary of the Sun Temple. Their faith shaken, their blessings do not work. 9: A eunuch servant. Stays a step behind him, holds a silk parasol over his head. A minor princeling, just visiting. 10: A gaur-skull mask -- the symbol of Kitting’s elders. Not an actual elder, underneath. Nobody has realised this, yet.

Injury -- This survivor has:

1: Shrapnel in the brain. Lucid, but unable to speak. 2: Terrible burns. A mummy: bandaged, waddling. 3: A mauled arm. Turning gangrene-black and fetid. 4: A pulped leg. Makeshift crutch, easily snapped. 5: Missing a hand. Bad tourniquet; the stump leaks. 6: Without an ear. “What? Hah? Say again? What?” 7: Broken nose. “Nob, I don’t knob what habbened.” 8: Punctured eye. Crying amber aqueous humour. 9: Cracked ribs. Every breath an agonised wheeze. 10: Missing front teeth. Absently tongues the gap.

Incident -- This survivor is:

1: Whimpering softly. Burying a lover’s ashes. Slips a gem into the urn -- a jade pebble, glowing like a green-lit traffic light. 2: Fainting suddenly at your feet. Ruffians rush forward, pretending to help. They will rob the invalid of all belongings. 3: Tugging your arm. Their sister is missing, vanished from her tent. Tracks lead away -- a single pair of bloody handprints. 4: Thrashing an orphan. The waifs will band together, for safety and revenge. They will use shanks. They will murder. 5: Pulling you aside. There is a cellar full of silver ingots, in the ruins of Elder’s Lane. They can lead you to it. Interested? 6: Running right at you. Chased by a bull gone mad. A machete is stuck in its flank. Attempts to gore whoever’s closest. 7: Scratching themselves raw. Ghost lice -- spirit parasites that make your soul itch. Infuriating. Transmitted via speech. 8: Laughing at the sky. Commits suicide, tonight. Tomorrow their spectre possesses a survivor, who laughs at the sky … 9: Tying parchment to a homing pigeon. The bird belongs to gang of bandits. The time is ripe for them to ride into town. 10: Looking for bodyguards. Kitting needs a fresh start. New leadership. They are stepping up. Not everybody will agree.

( Image sources: https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/this-combo-shows-a-file-photo-taken-on-january-2-2005-of-a-news-photo/460186596#this-combo-shows-a-file-photo-taken-on-january-2-2005-of-a-damaged-picture-id460186596 https://www.flickr.com/photos/britishlibrary/11273922414/in/photolist-i9xa1U-i8kMAi-ia7bmd-ibeNmE-hQQBTN-i7N6Zh-i18nVQ-i2KJTa-hQBfqH http://www.payer.de/ayurveda/tiere/bos_frontalis.htm )

#writing #fantasies #towns #disasters #random generators

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liadanswhisper · 7 years ago

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The Price of Inaction

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." -- Edmund Burke Liadan could smell the water long before she could hear it, the scent traveling up the tunnel dug into the very heart of the stone beneath the great stump that marked the entrance to the Stillglade Fane. A sense of hushed anticipation permeated the air around her, bolstered by the near-silent footfalls of her own booted feet, the moss and loam beneath absorbing almost all sound. After what seemed like an age, she finally came to the bridge, the tinkling chime of the water itself having alerted her steps before. A formal bow to the Hearer by the door - a woman named Biddy - and she stepped inside for the first time in nearly a year.

In a way, it was as though she'd never left. Not a thing appeared changed, which shouldn't have surprised her. The Fane had persisted across centuries in this very spot. A mere year was nothing in those terms. She veered to the left once inside, passing through the door that only those admitted to the Fane were permitted to enter. Down a long series of hallways dug deep beneath Gridania itself, she finally found herself in a small study where the Padjal she'd come to see awaited her. Sinking into a formal bow, more out of instinct and habit than anything else, she finally spoke, "Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, wise one."

------------------------ "How can you be sure it is the same creature?"

E-Sumi-Yan's childlike features were drawn into an expression of intense thought as he stared at Liadan from behind his desk. His pale, almost colorless eyes held reservations but not, she thought, complete disbelief. "My first indication was when Heart's Grace began to scream. All the way in Kugane, on Hingashi, past Othard itself, and my staff was so filled with fear that I initially could not separate its fear from my own. On and on it screamed, and I could discern aught but fear and the occasional muttering of, 'He returns, he returns!' So great was its fear that I returned - all the way from Othard - via teleportation, worried that the Shroud itself might be alight." Liadan paced as she related her actions, lacing her hands together at some points, gesturing descriptively in others, "I went to the Hedgetree, where we broke the hold it had on its victims. Where...where O-Rehn sacrificed himself to ensure no child would ever again be misborn, as he was." She turned her green eyes towards the Padjal across from her, placing her hands on the desk, "I spoke to O-Rehn, wise one, as I would speak to one of the more coherent Elementals. Between the two of us, we were able to calm the staff's screaming and gain yet more information. Heart's Grace said the creature had been carried north, to the land of ice and snow. The staff said that he - the beast of Toto-Rak - was awake again. That people had already fed him sacrifices."

She pushed away, beginning to pace once more, "I immediately left for Ishgard, for there is a Temple Knight there who helped us in the past when the Beast was free and loose in the Shroud." She pursed her lips together, "'Twas he who related to me that he had begun having dreams - almost the selfsame day as Heart's Grace began to scream - of Toto-Rak. Nightmares, really. Which is not surprising, as he was one of the adventurers who actually ventured there to destroy the creature. While we spoke, another veteran of that conflict arrived - a Miqo'te alchemist named Nikha. She, too, had encountered the Beast of Toto-Rak, and she, too, had begun having dreams about Toto-Rak and the beast that haunted its halls. But, that was not all..."

Liadan pulled out a rolled up parchment and held it out to the Padjal, waiting until E-Sumi-Yan unfolded it before speaking, "Nihka brought me that. As you can see, it's a leverequest. It appears that some unnamed parties hired a group of people to retrieve stones from the heart of Toto-Rak, and then smuggle them into Ishgard to be brought to parties unnamed. Someone ordered this, wise one." She took a seat in the chair she had thusfar ignored, leaning forward, her hands clasped, "Someone deliberately set out to awaken this creature. And it could only have been someone who knew what he was, what he did. That list is quite short."

"You are certain it was not one of the adventurers who fought him in the first place?" E-Sumi glanced up from the parchment, his expression now grim, his pale eyes fixed on the Hyur's face. Liadan shook her head in reply, "I can't be certain of anything, but..." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "I think it unlikely for a variety of reasons. The most obvious being that those who fought the Beast of Toto-Rak are aware that he is not controllable. Whoever did this either didn't know that, or didn't care what havoc he would wreak." She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to look across the desk at E-Sumi, "The most likely suspect would appear to be Hearns. I believe he may be in Ishgard, and this...this would be something he would consider. He is eaten up with hatred towards the man who got him imprisoned in the first place." "That is true, and yet...I doubt he would have the funds to pay for such an endeavor." The Padjal looked down at the parchment thoughtfully, "Perhaps he decided to sell it to a heretic? Or someone else dabbling in dark magic."

Liadan nodded slowly, her eyes shifting to the parchment briefly before turning back to the Padjal before her, "That is my thought, as well. Someone with wealth wanted those stones. Someone called him forth, and now...all of Ishgard may be in jeopardy."

E-Sumi-Yan steepled his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desk, "Ishgard has long dealt with the scourge of dragon heretics. They are not unversed in the art of rooting out dark forces and eliminating them. Gridania is not given to interfering in the lands of others, even allies."

She leaned forward, her brow furrowed as she gave the Padjal a surprised look, "We are not, it is true. But this is our sin. Ours. We created this creature. We allowed him to thrive. It was through both our action and inaction that he was able to torment so many, and lead to the deaths of still more. Ishgard has no comprehension of what they are dealing with. This is not a group of heretics, or brainwashed cultists. This is fear and agony given form. The nightmare that lurks at the back of your mind that you cannot escape. He feeds on hopelessness and despair." She clapped a hand against her chest, "And WE have the ability to stop him. You know this, wise one. You know the one thing he fears above all else. They do not have this hope. We do, as well as the obligation to right what our wrongs have given birth to." ----------

"The problem is, the government of Ishgard is in flux."

E-Sumi stood next to a climbing vine, one he was carefully tending in the small, private garden they'd relocated to. The discussion had gone on for hours, and at length, the Padjal invited the Hearer to walk with him as they debated back and forth the next course of action.

"I am not at all certain that they will even honor the pact we made. After all, the Temple Knights no longer hunt for Heretics in the Shroud, or anywhere else. Indeed, their very foundations have been shaken. It is not clear whether their new 'parliament' will even be open to the idea of a Gridanian Hearer hunting down those who dabble in the dark arts within their domain."

Liadan stood a few feet away, looking up through the tree branches, "We can't just do nothing, wise one." She turned her head, her green eyes returning to the Padjal, "To do nothing is an action in and of itself."

"I know." The words were breathed with a heavy sigh as E-Sumi placed his tools on the ground and straightened, turning towards the Hyur, a grim expression on his face, "Which is why I will sanction your actions in Ishgard. You will have all the backing the Fane can give you to hunt the Beast of Toto-Rak down, and end him. And to bring to justice those who brought him back into being. But...I fear it may not be enough."

The redhead crossed the clearing, dropping to one knee before the leader of her order, "Thank you. It will be enough. All I ever needed was to know that the Fane supported me. It doesn't matter if they don't believe me. I will find a way. I have to. So that others may live."

"Have a care, Liadan, that you do not spend your life too quickly or easily. Your past does not define you. You must not forever live to make amends for the actions of a terrified child."

#Liadan #RP #FFXIV #verad bellveil vs the world #Crimes Against Nature #Fate-14 #HQE

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kieranoruadhain · 7 years ago

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Intermission

(I wrote this drabble in response to a prompt and thought it’d be fun to come up with how Khyran met Toviel, plus it helps to dip my head back into XIV-Khy’s mindspace so this was fun to write! its also a little self-indulgent i’m sorry

It’s super long. I dont expect anyone to actually read this but if you do i love you) Starvation was such a familiar feeling, Khyran Oisin rarely considered it a burden. No matter where he went, no matter what he was doing, willpower was all he needed to be useful and he had that in abundance. Shouldering his travel bag and adjusting its weight, he continued on down the cobblestone road and through a haze of rain, limping on his bad leg. He would’ve taken the Aetherstream if he could. His soul, however, hadn’t attuned to the aetheryte on the mountain past the Gridanian border. He didn’t want to leave his client waiting, so he opted to travel alone without waiting for help from any of his friends or hiring an escort. (He was sure Defiant would come along if he asked, but the last thing he wanted to do was inconvenience her, knowing how insanely hectic her schedule tended to be.)

It had been a long time since he ever travelled such a long distance on foot- he had been around Eorzea long enough to have familiarize himself with aetherytes all over the country. His poorly-fitted peg leg wobbled with nearly every step he took, and his grip on his walking stick slackened in the rain. The forest road inclined steeply as he neared the edge of the mountain pass and his footholds on the rocks became precarious. He hiked onward and upward. He saw the sky darkening through the canopy and hastened his pace, but the trees above him failed to shield him from the encroaching downpour. Rain cascaded down in torrential sheets. With each step he took, the stump of his bad leg chafed against the leather socket of his peg leg until it was agonizing. He walked until it became too much to bear, willpower fading in the face of exhaustion. He tried to find a dry spot against the face of the cliff, but the wind was blowing the rain directly into him. He pressed his back against the edge of a tree, using it as a shield against the rain, but the wind changed moments later. He didn’t get back up. He tucked his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them. It was the middle of Gridania and the air was mild, but the rain felt bitterly cold as it soaked through his clothes and stuck against his skin.He allowed himself only a few moment’s rest before he pulled himself up again and continued his uphill struggle.

He snagged low-hanging branches on his way up the path and stepped as carefully as he could. Water cascaded beneath his feet and thundered down the cliff’s face- it was a wonder he managed to keep his footing for so long. The worst part about this was that he had no idea when it was going to end. He checked a map before he departed, and a traveller he met along the road told him it took only two bells to climb the mountain pass on foot. That advice probably applies to good weather, he thought as he was forced to stop and rest once more, leaning his back against the cliff face.

It continued like this for at least three more bells. He’d start, then he’d stop. He’d start, then he’d stop. By the time he reached the top of the cliff, his leg burned, his head pounded and his shoulders felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets with the weight of his sodden travel bag. His toils were rewarded by the sight of a small village nestled against the forest and cliffs, smoke puffing from chimneys. In the center of the town, the blue glow of a crystalline aetheryte penetrated the thick fog that hung around the mountain. It was dinnertime and Khyran could smell spices in the air. His empty gut twisted as he noticed his hunger in earnest, but he ignored it. The job he was here for was best suited for an empty stomach. He limped towards the first building he could reach and knocked on the door. He didn’t know where his client lived, but the place was small enough that he was sure he could be pointed in the right direction. Moments later, the door opened a crack and he could see a red-headed child peeking through a sliver of an orange glow. “Momma!” The little girl called, closing the door, but Khyran easily heard her. “There’s a weird man at the door!” “Does he have an eyepatch?” Khyran heard a female voice reply. “Yeah!” The child replied. “Let him in, Jana. That’s the voidhunter.”

The door swung open again and the red-headed girl stepped aside to let Khyran pass. She fixed him with a distrusting stare, her brows furrowed and her upper lip curled in an obvious pout. Khyran stopped in the threshold, dripping wet, noticing how heavy his boot was with mud. Looking into the common room of the house, he could see a Hyur woman standing at a cooking stove, stirring a pot. He saw a wooden table and chairs, a couch in a corner, and a rug on the floor. A stairwell led somewhere else. The woman looked over her shoulder at Khyran and said, “one moment! I can’t let this sit or it’ll burn.” She beckoned him. “Come in, have a seat.” Khyran stood there awkwardly, settling both his hands on top of his walking stick. “Ah… sorry, I don’t want to track mud through your house.” “I have three kids, sir. It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” The woman responded over her shoulder. “Besides, you’re here to help, aren’t you? I’m just glad you made it here through all that rain.” She tossed a handful of herbs into the pot and called, “Jana, go and get the nice man some towels.” The little girl started to walk backwards with a defiant stare. Then, she turned and retreated up the stairs with a patter of bare footsteps. Khyran was not left waiting long. The little girl returned with two patterned towels, holding them out to him. He reached out to take them, and she dropped them at his feet and bolted. He stooped to pick them up, trying to dry himself off the best he could. He lowered his travel bag to the floor, propping it against the wall, unlatched his boot, and pulled it off his foot. With that done, he finally felt more at ease to sit at the woman’s table as he was bidden. “You must be Claire?” He asked as he lowered his aching body into a wooden chair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I haven’t ever been up here before, so I had to walk.” “You found the right place, aye.” By now, Claire was spooning stew into bowls. Khyran smelled pumpkin and fish. She raised her voice and called, “boys, come on down!” Footsteps thundered down the stairs as two wiry boys rushed into the room. They looked exactly alike, right down to their clothes. “Hey, the void guy came!” One of them said, and the other nudged him with an elbow. “He’s a voidhunter, not a void guy.” The other rolled his eyes. “Shut up, know-it-all.” Then, “you shut up.” “Boys!” Claire barked, cowing them into submission. As Claire presented Khyran with a bowl, he refused politely with a shake of his head, raising a hand. “I don’t eat before a job.” He explained. “Thanks for the offer, though.” With all the kids presented with bowls, the woman finally took her seat on the other end of the table, tucking in to her dinner. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Oisin. I was contacted by others asking for details about the case, but you’re the only one who actually showed up. I thought someone else might be coming, too, but I haven’t heard from him.” As she spoke, her expression betrayed discomfort: clearly the subject ahead wasn’t something she was looking forward to. Khyran squinted. Another voidhunter found her job posting? “No need to thank me. This is what I do.” He folded a hand atop the other and watched her impassively. “As I understand, you have a haunted well?” The woman nodded, failing to pick up her spoon. “It started two weeks ago. Every time someone goes to draw water, a monster, or a force, something tries to pull them in. We’ve had to go all the way down the mountain to get water from the stream.” “Yeah,” one of the boys chimed in, “Carter, from next door, he went out to the well just to see what was there, and it nearly dragged him all the way down! He told me he wasn’t scared, but I saw him! He peed himself!” The kids around the table chuckled, but Claire gave them a stern look, which silenced them. “Carter could have died. It’s not something to laugh about.” Khyran, too, didn’t find it funny. “Do you know if anything was done to the well? Have you had any strange visitors two weeks ago?” He asked, keeping his gaze focused on the woman. “Not that I remember. Everything’s been the same up here.” Khyran nodded, his hand lifting to rub at his unshaven jaw as he thought. “Sometimes voidsent just appear. They find weaknesses in the veil and come through at their own volition. Natural forces, erosion, Hydaelyn weakening… it’s not always a cultist responsible for these things. Has anyone felt the force elsewhere, or just the well?” “Just the well.” “The voidsent must be attached to something inside the well. It must be too weak to travel far from where the veil tore. There’s some source of aether down there keeping it fed so that if it goes too far away, it loses its power. An anchor, so to speak.” Khyran continued. “Do you know how to get rid of it?” One of the twin boys asked. Khyran leaned his back against the chair, drumming his fingers on top of the table. “I’ll have to look at it to be completely sure, but from what little we know, I can see one of two things working. I find some sort of bait, draw the voidsent away, then kill it once reveals itself. Or, I find its anchor and destroy it.” His fingers kept drumming, faster as he thought. “The first option might not work because it sounds like our voidsent doesn’t have a physical form. Normally they create bodies when they pass through to our plane, but sometimes they don’t. The only way I could kill it is if it possessed something physical and that’s a bit of a gamble.” “Wait… you’re not saying the best way is going in there!?” One of the boys blurted. “That’s crazy! You should do the bait thing!” “James,” Claire said, “this man is a professional. He knows what he’s doing.” She looked back to Khyran and added, “you have quite a reputation among voidsent hunters, do you not? Can’t you… leech the power out of things you touch?” “My reputation’s not wholly deserved.” He said with a lopsided smile. “I had a lot of help. And that aether leeching thing I do is just a cheap trick.” He gestured loosely towards the boy that spoke last and said, “your kid has a point. Going down there is probably going to be rough. But it’d be the fastest way to kill the voidsent. Not only is the second option not guaranteed to work, baiting voidsent isn’t always a good idea. They don’t always behave predictably.” “How do you think you’ll get down there in one piece?” “Does it still have a functioning bucket and pulley?” Khyran asked. “Yeah.” “The voidsent probably won’t target me. Someone can just lower me down.” “It’s targeted everyone else, why wouldn’t it target you?” Questioned one of the boys. “It’s something I’m born with. They can’t sense me, so that makes hunting them a little easier for me than others.” He thought for a moment. “But that would pose a problem for anyone lowering me down and pulling me back up again, as it would probably attack them, so… we’re going to have to extend the pulley system so it can be done from a greater distance. And I’ll need a bell or something that I can ring once I need to get back up.”

“That can be arranged.” Claire said, looking a bit nervous. “Is that all you think we need to do?”

Khyran nodded. “If I can’t figure out what the voidsent’s anchor is, I’ll be surprised. But if I don’t find anything, at least we’ll know what not to do.”

***

Rigging the well’s pulley system was an adventure in and of itself. Khyran was at the ready while some of the village men came out to assist in the task, and Khyran was able to see first-hand exactly what sort of problem he was dealing with. As soon as someone precariously approached the well to grab the existing bucket rope, he was tugged full-force and nearly launched down the mouth of the well by an unseen force. It took three people scrambling forward all at once to pull the man back out. By the time everyone had gotten the rope system extended, Khyran was handed an extraordinarily long roll of twine, the end of which was attached to a silver bell and set to dangle over the frame of someone’s door. He attached the twine to his belt and was given a small lantern as a final preparation. Everything was tested and deemed sufficient, but Khyran couldn’t help but to feel nervous as he stood at the mouth of the well, staring down into a black abyss. He hadn’t felt anything tugging at him, which confirmed his theory: the voidsent in the well couldn’t sense him. He let out a breath he had been holding. Doing this sort of work was never easy, but he was one of the few people in Eorzea uniquely equipped for the job. Someone had to do it. He straightened, steeling himself, then called to the people waiting nearby, “I’m going in. I’ll ring the bell once when I’ve hit the bottom, and I’ll ring it again when I gotta come up. It’ll be three rings, in rapid succession, in case I accidentally jingle it or something.” He paused. “Oh, and if I ring it a lot, I’m in trouble.” One of the men waiting by the end of the pulley system gave him a thumbs-up. Khyran nodded. He attached the lantern to his belt, feeling its weight hang against his hip. He set one foot in the bucket, grabbed the rope with both hands, and waited for the villagers to lower him into the darkness. His descent was unsteady and jarring. Several times he nearly lost his balance and fell out of the bucket. At last, it lowered into the water with a plunk. Gingerly, he stepped out of the bucket, trying to feel how deep the water was. He didn’t feel anything at first, so he jumped in, holding the lantern above his head and praying he could keep it from going under. The water came up to his chest, but at least he could feel the bottom. He rang the bell. At least, he thought it rang. He couldn’t hear it from down here. By the lantern’s warm glow he could see the underground passage continuing on into a cave. The rocky walls were lined with moss and were slick to the touch. He didn’t immediately see anything strange. The air smelled clean. He waded towards the passage where the walls closed in around either side of him. He was a very thin man, so it wasn’t an extremely tight fit for him, but he could see it posing a problem for someone else. The passage opened up into a second chamber and the water became deeper. Khyran was up to his neck in it, struggling to hold the lantern up. He realized, moments later, that he didn’t even need it anymore. There was one more passage ahead of him, and an ominous red glow was pulsing from around the corner. His heart lodged in his throat as he felt an oppressive force coming from beyond the corridor. He knew he had to go onward, but he didn’t know if he could keep his lantern up anymore. He searched for a place to put it where it wouldn’t drop into the water, and gratefully found a shelf of stone and moss where it could rest. With his hands freed, he swam through the frigid water, towards the source of the red glow. He went slowly, so as not to cause a ripple in the water or accidentally ring his bell. He had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side of the rocks. The water deepened all the more as he swam. Anxiety swelled in his chest. Of all the things he truly feared in this world, it was drowning. He was in too deep to abandon this mission now. He saw what the problem was. It was below him. A red glow came up from beneath him, bright enough for him to see its outline. An aether crystal. It was a natural formation, and he could only guess all the rain these past few weeks had caused shifting in the underground tunnels and revealed it. It must have been giving off enough power to feed weak voidsent, allowing them enough strength to cross through the void. Khyran was no stranger to dealing with such crystals, but he wasn’t entirely sure how deep it was, and he still hadn’t seen the- Something struck his head. Stunned, he grabbed on to the wall and looked up. The whole tunnel rumbled and rocks rained down. A few pebbles bounced off his back. He heard a low moaning and his skin crawled. “Get out. Get out. Get out.” Something hissed in the midst of the red glow. “You’re not what I want. You have nothing. Nothing.” More rumbling. Khyran kicked off the wall and dodged another cascade of rocks. “You’re right,” he said between gasps, exhausted from treading water. “I don’t have any aether for you.” “Hungry, so hungry…” the moaning voice continued. He couldn’t see its source. It was possessing the ceiling above him and he couldn’t reach it. “That’s right. And without that crystal, you’re going to starve.” Khyran said back. The creature sounded like it was screaming, but inside the rocks. Khyran gulped a breath and dived. Dust kicked up all around him and he could hardly see where he was going. He swam down towards the crystal with all his might. The cavern rumbled so much it felt like he was in the middle of an earthquake. His fingers were inches away from the crystal. A heavy stone plunged into the water with the force of a cannonball. Khyran jerked back just before it would’ve struck him, and it landed on top of the crystal. He was running out of air. He grabbed the rock and pulled, but it didn’t budge. More rocks fell. He pushed and shoved. Nothing happened. Desperately, he stuck his peg leg between the rock and the ground and pushed against it. Somehow, that worked. He was able to leverage it up enough to roll it out of the way. He grabbed the crystal. His lungs burned. He kicked off the ground and broke the surface of the water, choking. As the voidsent in the cave screamed and shook the very earth, Khyran’s fingers tightened around the aether crystal. He didn’t have to think. It just happened. The power within his hands sapped the aether crystal of all its raw power, the energy swirling in the air around his hands. It couldn’t enter his body- he had nothing to hold it. With nowhere else to go, the aether compressed, crystallized, and took on a different form. Something the voidsent couldn’t eat. As the energy left the aether crystal, reducing its red glow to nothingness, the rumbling in the cave waned and the voidsent’s voice whimpered and died. Khyran grabbed the newformed materia crystal with his free hand, shoving it triumphantly in his pocket. Then a rock smashed his head. * * * He woke with a start and coughed up a mouthful of water. The first thing he saw was the unfamiliar face of a pale Elezen man hovering over him. He saw more people gathered around, worry and relief on their faces. He recognized the village around him, and he was lying in wet grass. Khyran felt bewildered, and the back of his head hurt so bad it was like somebody lodged a hatchet in his skull. “Thank Menphina, he’s alive.” The Elezen breathed, his gentle hands reaching down to scoop beneath Khyran’s back, helping him sit up. The sky ended up somewhere below him and the buildings pitched and tilted. Khyran’s insides flipped. He couldn’t remember what he was doing here. There was a red glow… materia… a voidsent underground, but where was he now? How did he get here? He swallowed thickly and his head flopped forward against his volition. “With all that rumbling, there was no way in hell we were gonna wait for that bell to ring.” A burly man said where he stood next to the Elezen. “Mr. Oisin? Are you alright?” Khyran teetered. “Never been better.” He croaked. “You look like hell. Took a hit to your head down there. Can you walk?” Khyran started to stand. Even with the supporting grasp of the Elezen, his bad leg quivered and he dropped back down to the ground. “Don’t push yourself, Mr. Oisin, you’re badly hurt.” The Elezen said gently. “I’ll carry you.” “Bring him with me, please. Let’s get him dried off.” Said the burly man. Khyran felt the Elezen’s arms scooping under his back and beneath his knees. His head swam with vertigo as he felt the ground leave him. The Elezen brought him through the doors of the house from earlier. Khyran was vaguely aware that those kids from earlier were following, but their mother, Claire, told them to go play quietly in their rooms. The woman hurried ahead of them, disappearing into the house, followed by the man at her heels. Up the stairs they went. Khyran felt himself gently lowered into a chair. He was in a room now- someone’s bedroom, by the looks of it. Claire brought fresh clothes and laid them out on the bed. “These are my husband’s clothes. They might be a bit big on you, but I’ll have your old clothes laundered for you soon as I can. Just leave them outside the door, alright?” Claire told him. Khyran squinted in her general direction. He saw three of her. He blinked. Good, now there were just two of her. “Can you get dressed, Mr. Oisin?” Asked the Elezen. Why were they all acting like he was suddenly an infirm old man? “I’m fine. I think I just…” He couldn’t think of the word he wanted to say. He sat there in complete silence. The others waited for him to finish his sentence in vain. Claire then bowed and left the room. Khyran felt the Elezen unbuttoning his jacket, undoing his belt, pulling off his boot and peeling off his soaked clothes. He didn’t try to stop him. His eyelids drooped and his head sagged against the back of the chair. Moments later, he felt completely bare and exposed, and the Elezen was patting him dry with towels. One by one, fresh clothes were returned to his body, tugged into place. He was lifted from the chair and laid into the bed in such a way where he was seated upright. Heavy, warm sheets were pulled up to his lap. Moments later, someone knocked on the door. “It’s Onyx,” a male voice said. “Is he dressed?” “Yes sir,” said the Elezen, and the man entered the room carrying a tray. He set it down on the bedside table. Through the blurs in his vision Khyran could make out a cup, a bowl, a few jars, and a roll of bandages. “Thank you,” the Elezen said, and began to lift some things off the tray, applying the contents of a bottle to a cloth. The next thing he felt was a horrifyingly painful sting as the Elezen touched the cloth to the back of his head. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. “Sorry!” The Elezen said. “I have to clean it, sir. You’re bleeding everywhere.” The stinging abated a few moments later, and he endured it. Khyran watched the Elezen open the jar and dip out a green paste. He felt the other man’s fingers pressing the cool, green gel into the back of his head, spreading it around. He shivered. Bandages rolled around his forehead, across the back of his head and around again, layer after layer, until they were finally affixed in place with a small pin. “You think you’ve got it from here?” The gruff man’s voice asked. The Elezen nodded. “I’ll watch after him. If I had arrived sooner maybe I could have helped him before this happened.” “It’s not your fault.” The gruff man said. Khyran heard retreating footsteps. “My wife and I will be downstairs. Yell if you need us.” A door opened and closed. Khyran drew in a deep breath and tried to think, but his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Every time he opened his eye, the world pitched and twisted and it felt like there was a blurry film over his eye. “I’m Toviel.” The Elezen introduced quietly. “I saw the job posting in Gridania and I offered to come help, but I was very late. I’m sorry I didn’t show up in time to help you, Mr. Oisin.” “My name’s Khy.” He replied. “No need to… be. Be formal like that. You know.” He said between breaths. The effort of speaking made his stomach twist. Toviel chuckled. “Alright, Mr. Khy.” He gently patted his hand. “I know you must want to rest, but please try to eat something first.” He wasn’t even remotely hungry. “No, thanks.” Toviel picked up the bowl from the tray and brought it into his lap. “You’ll heal faster if you have some food in you.” He offered the bowl out towards Khyran. He didn’t want it at all, but he reluctantly reached for it. He missed. He couldn’t see straight. The look on Toviel’s face was empathetic. “I know this might be embarrassing, but you’ve got a terrible concussion, sir. Please allow me to feed you.” Khyran stared at Toviel with a grimace. Then, his head drooped, and he chuckled. It came out like a wheeze. He didn’t say anything. The situation alone was funny enough. Toviel scooped up a chunk of fish in the creamy pumpkin soup on the wooden spoon and held it out towards his lips. “I have heard stories about you. You go by Vulture, don’t you? I heard you killed a voidsent on the second tier.” Khyran reluctantly ate the mouthful of soup. “Now look at me, reduced to this.” Toviel smiled sadly at him. “I quite admire you, actually. This is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re only human.” He ate a few more mouthfuls of the soup, but it wasn’t settling well in his stomach. By the next offered spoonful, he lifted his hand in silent refusal. Toviel set the bowl back down on the bedside table. Khyran wilted like a dying plant, sliding down the headboard of the bed until he was resting on his back. The back of his head burned when it fell against the pillow. “Rest, Mr. Khy. I’ll be here if you need me.” Toviel promised. Khyran drifted into a haze. As night fell outside the grey sky blackened. The sounds of the family of five in the house below faded as everyone went to bed. Khyran had trouble sleeping under the watchful eye of a stranger. With his eye closed and breathing slow, he could only pretend to be. Even the slightest creak in the house or wind outside his window was enough to keep him wide awake. In the back of his mind, he felt a little sick. It must have been a few bells, lying there like that in complete silence. His insides started roiling and he tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. He couldn’t deny the nausea anymore. He was sweating and salivating. He didn’t know if he’d be sick or not, or where to go if he was. He couldn’t see a bucket in the room. Looking over at Toviel, he found the man still seated upright, but asleep in his chair. Khyran didn’t want to wake him. He peeled back the bedsheets and pushed himself upright with his elbow. His stomach lurched. Did this family have a lavatory somewhere? He didn’t want to risk opening random doors. He’d just go outside. Mapping out a plan in his mind, hastened by the rapidly worsening nausea, he slipped his foot to the floor. He gently set down his peg leg next, careful not to make a sound. He counted to three in his mind and stood up. The bed creaked as he did, and he stumbled with overwhelming vertigo. He grabbed the edge of a bookshelf to steady himself. He stuffed a hand against his mouth, breathing heavily, horribly sick. Toviel stirred in his chair and woke with a start when he saw what was going on. He went to Khyran’s side and rested a hand on his back. “Are you going to throw up?” Khy nodded, his breaths quickening. Spit pooled in his mouth. “Just let it out, I’ve got you. Don’t worry about the floor.” He was worrying about the floor. He wanted to go outside. He took an unsteady step towards the door, but Toviel was holding him in place, one hand brushing against his forehead and the other bracing his stomach. Khyran stood there, leaning forward, feeling caught between falling over and standing upright. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His grip on the top of the bookshelf felt slick with the sweat on his hand. He peeled his other hand off of his mouth and rested it against his knee. Khy inhaled sharply and coughed. He felt Toviel’s grip tightened around his abdomen. Khy’s breaths quickened to a retch and his body lurched involuntarily. The contents of his stomach surged up his throat and spilled to the floor. A disgusting bastardization of fish and pumpkin soup mixed generously with bile. It smelled sour. He gasped for breath and heaved again, feeling Toviel’s hand squeezing his middle as he did. The nauseating puddle of vomit expanded. “Good job, Mr. Khy. You’ll be alright. I’ve got you.” Toviel reminded him in a soft voice, the cool hand on his forehead brushing back his hair. Khyran tried to respond, something about how embarrassing this was, but he spluttered instead and threw up a thin trickle of bile. He spat out the bitter taste and gagged dryly but nothing else came up. His dry heaves soon abated and he slumped, held upright by Toviel’s supporting grip. He felt exhausted and embarrassed. Slimy drool clung to his beard. He couldn’t spit it away, and he didn’t want to soil the other man’s clothes. “Can you stand on your own?” Toviel asked him. Khyran nodded miserably. Toviel left him there, moving to the bedside table, where he soon returned with a damp rag. He must’ve dipped it in the cup of water. Toviel wiped his mouth and chin for him, then gave his back a few comforting rubs before guiding him to sit down on the edge of the bed again. Toviel gave him a once-over, as if making sure he hadn’t puked on himself. As far as he knew, he hadn’t. Khyran started to say something, but somebody knocked on the door. He pressed a hand to his face. He wanted to disappear. “You alright in there, Mr. Oisin?” Claire’s voice called, sounding concerned. “He vomited on the floor,” Toviel answered. “I may need some things to clean this with. And do you have a bucket for him?” “I’m sorry.” Khyran croaked weakly. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Oisin. I have three kids, remember.” By the sound of her voice, she didn’t seem too angry about this. “I’ll be right back.” Toviel sat down beside Khyran and rested a hand on his back. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so ill. I should’ve thought ahead. This can happen sometimes, when people get a concussion.” Khyran just shrugged. He didn’t want to risk speaking, when every breath he took still felt like it wanted to be a retch instead. When Claire returned, she had her husband, Onyx, with her. He helped her carry some things- a mop bucket, lye for cleaning the floor, a bunch of rags, and a spare bucket which was placed at the side of Khyran’s bed. He watched as the three others cleaned the floor, and none of them complained. “I feel terrible about this.” He found his voice a few moments later. “If- if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you-” “You just killed a voidsent that was terrorizing us for weeks and nearly drowned for it.” Onyx interrupted, barking a laugh as he tossed a handful of soiled rags into the mop bucket. “You don’t owe us anything.” Khyran laid back down, feeling horribly guilty as everyone else cleaned up after him. His hand was still pressed resolutely over his face. Here he was, the legendary voidsent hunter, Vulture, felled by a pebble and puking all over a stranger’s floor. He felt ashamed of himself. He didn’t remember falling asleep. It was dreamless and silent. When he woke again, he didn’t know how long it had been, but dawn’s light was outside his window and he was feeling pathetically sick all over again. Toviel was still there, sitting in the same chair. “Good morning, Mr. Khy.” He said when they made eye contact. He passed a glass of water towards him. Khyran still had trouble taking it. His head throbbed. Toviel kept a hand steadily on the glass of water as he drank. He took a few sips and passed the water back. “You still look rough.” Toviel commented. “But you should try to eat, anyway.” Khyran shook his head, grimacing as a headache pounded behind his eye sockets. “It won’t stay down. Please don’t make me try again.” “You’re very weak. If you don’t eat you’ll never get better.” Toviel hovered over him, his expression some mix of concerned and stern, “I want you to keep trying until it stays down, alright?” He realized, with a growing sense of dread that rivaled the tunnels of the well, that there was no arguing with the Elezen. - - - Khyran had a reputation among his friends and co-workers of having an extremely poor constitution. Normally, however, he could keep to himself and care for his own problems so he could avoid involving others. Now, however, he didn’t have the luxury of that. It was either Toviel or Claire and her family, all hovering around him, constantly checking on him, cleaning up after him, bringing him food (which only stayed down less than half the time), and never leaving him alone for too long. He was miserable the entire time. He hated feeling like such an inconvenience, so he kept to himself as much as he could. When he wasn’t shut away in the borrowed bedroom (which he learned had belonged to Claire and Onyx and wondered uncomfortably where they were sleeping instead), he ventured outside with the help of Toviel to get fresh air and clear his head. The family was extremely kind and understanding. Their three rambunctious children had the presence of mind to be tame in his company, and asked him all sorts of questions about all the voidsent he had hunted throughout his time. (He answered less than half of their questions honestly.) He was stuck there for a week before everyone deemed him well enough to travel back home- on the condition he would rest more until the lingering symptoms of his concussion faded. In that time he had come to learn about Toviel. The Elezen called himself a travelling problem-solver: though he didn’t specialize in hunting voidsent like Khyran did, he had the magical knowledge and skills to encompass a variety of fields. He admitted to reviving Khyran when the village had pulled him out of the well, drawing the water out of his lungs with a spell. Khyran left a linkpearl with him, as well as a separate one for Claire and her family, promising that if they ever had a problem with voidsent again, he would help them free of charge, and in good health. As he walked towards the village aetheryte, readying himself to attune his soul to its power, Toviel walked with him. They were silent until Khyran reached the precipice of the powerful crystal. Turning to face the Elezen, Khyran tilted his head back to look at his face. “I never got to properly thank you for taking care of me.” He said. “I insist you come visit me at my company’s headquarters soon. It’s called Ark. We’re a collective of voidsent hunters.” He held out a small card, and Toviel took it. He turned it in his hands, examining both sides of it. There was an address on one side, and a symbol of a bird on the other. “Thank you, Mr. Khy. I would love to come and visit, when I’m able.” “If you’re interested, I want to offer you a job.” Khyran continued, resting both his hands on top of the bird-shaped head of his walking stick. “You saved my life back there, and you’re quite skilled with first aid. If you find yourself hurting for work, Ark could really use someone like you.” Toviel gave Khyran a bucktoothed grin. “Why, thank you very much for offering such a thing, Mr. Khy. How about we discuss it more when I’m able to visit? I’m sure it won’t be too long.” He tapped the linkpearl that Khyran had given him. Khyran tried to smile back. He hoped it passed as one. “Aye, I’ll see you again soon.” He pressed a hand to the hovering crystal. “Twelve bless you, Toviel.” “And you, Mr. Khy.” “You can lose the ‘mister’ part, you know.” He didn’t hear Toviel’s response. All he could see was a blue glow, and all that he heard was a humming in his ears. The aetheryte was working its magic. He left this place behind him.

#short story #vivicrowsketchbook #drabble #oneshot #sickfic #xivkhy

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