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theomnicode · 4 months ago

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Rose tinted glasses; Characterization difference of Blast and Saitama between rewritten & canon chapters

Warning: Long post ahead, mild webcomic spoilers ahead

Flash asks a very, very good question here. Meanwhile, here we have Blast who is intent on capturing Void alive so he could begin the demonsterization process since according to him on rewritten chapter, Void is key to god's dimension.

However, Blast does not divulge this information on the current canon timeline and does not explain to Flash why he wants Void alive, even if he sympathizes with Flash's blight because he and other ninja village people been abused and brainwashed to produce potential minions for OPM God.

Instead, Blast chooses to lie.

The timeline of the ninja village birth, Flash's birth inside the ninja village and growing up there and his and Empty void's search for the cubes coincide, so it means that Blast was well aware of Empty void already doing monstrous acts on some level and turned a blind eye to it...or he was very easily hoodwinked because he actually cared about his partner a lot. He even wear's Void's glasses.

Either Void was already under OPM God's control more than 15 years ago...or he was always this kind of person from the very beginning and Blast was just drawn to this enigmatic persona.

(How cute, he's actually holding hands with the objectively handsome devil itself)

And if you think hard enough, Flash's question is very important regarding Void because this guy can apparently just warp between dimensions like he pleases and create entire parallel timelines with each strike of his sword. It's actually quite nutty.

Void's answer to Blast's portal powers is to literally pull the curtain and transport himself into another dimension in a blink of an eye, before Blast's attack has even hope to connect and laugh at his pitiful attempt.

What is worse, Blast does not seem to realize or does not want to think about the fact that even if he magically succeeded to get Void, Void would not cooperate him in turning back into a human because the psychological mental state of wanting to demonsterize is the key to undoing the transformation.

And if he somehow cooperated...OPM God would just swoop in and suck the very lifeforce out of Void and make him a cold, empty husk. Like he did to Homeless emperor on Chapter 153: Forfeit.

There is no winning in this scenario for Blast, yet he tries anyway.

But why then...if he's so heroic and good at his job that he believes he could save Void...why did he not even attempt such with Genos when Garou had a hold on Genos' head? When he can apparently hide body parts between dimensions like he did to Sonic???

Blast is pragmatic to a fault and may have thought Genos was already beyond saving...but he's now showing his unscrupulous side. Which is kind of classic characterization for infj personality type to think end justify the means (like Dumbledore from harry potter) and he also casually endorses the torture of human turned monsters for simply his own gain and not for the gain of humanity as a whole. It's easier to justify torture if one emphatizes less with the person who is being tortured.

Allow me to demonstrate the difference between Blast and rewritten Blast and other such differences in characterization in the chapter 195: Threat and rewritten chapter 195: Tenninto.

Here we see Blast, Saitama and Flash observe the demonsterization process and and Blast is visibly disturbed, much moreso than Saitama who is just looking blankly ahead (ill get to that in a moment). He then makes the conclusion from the effects of electroshock that the psychological state of the person is key to demonsterize. So the characterization of Blast here is more aligned with the empathic hero who sometimes needs to make some hard decisions for the betterment of mankind.

Now, lets jump to the current canon Blast who also left Genos to die, without even attempting anything because he was beyond saving. (I've touched upon this on my meta Empathy's resonance).

The first thing he says about the experiment is...to ask the other people in the room if they fancy watching human turned monsters getting electrocuted. While smiling.

Holy shit Blast you're actually fucked up. If he actually thought this one through and was emphatic towards his fellow humans, he'd have told em NOT to watch or that it might be disturbing. Or at the very minimum not smirk like that, like observing it is supposed to be fun, human or monster.

Another negative point in Blast favour is when the electroshock therapy/torture ends.

He does not say anything and instead it's Sitch who points out what seems to be the key element they are missing. He's just observing impassively. Blast is being amoral.

Amorality (also known as amoralism) is an absence of, indifference towards, disregard for, or incapacity for morality. Some simply refer to it as a case of not being moral or immoral. Amoral should not be confused with immoral, which refers to an agent doing or thinking something they know or believe to be wrong.

So now, Blast's reasoning to actually observe and justify this electroshocking of human turned monsters is far more feeble. Rewritten Blast gave good justification to why they're doing this (turn Void back to human so they can end OPM God once and for all and help humanity as a whole) and he seemed far more altruistic. Now he is essentially just...secretly pining for his old partner and not saying anything about it. He believes a bit too much on the Empty Void he used to know and has forgiven Void's cruelty with a shrug, essentially he has rose-tinted glasses on.

Blast: "We need to find the cure for demonsterization asap for the good of humankind, I'm sorry you have to go through this. If you help us, we can probably turn you back to human as well." Also Blast: "How convenient, willing test subjects. Proceed."

His complete lack of reaction to Hamukichi's heartfelt speech speaks volumes.

One interesting thing to note here, is also Saitama's characterization that changed between the rewritten chapters.

If you look closely...Saitama is hiding behind everyone else. The revised panel for this is far larger than in the retconned version so we can see his expression more clearly. Saitama's body language and expression are far more clear and all these factors make him seem a lot more timid, concerned and even upset at watching the human turned monsters electrotorture. Saitama has always been sensitive to violence and aggression in general and he did not even muster himself to kill Boros who destroyed an entire city, nor Garou at the end when Garou was spent and completely at his mercy. (Chapter 168, Awakening of the gods)

In the revised chapters, Saitama is not shown in all panels to make this reaction more pronounced when we actually see it, because Saitama is also innately highly empathic person, but his emotions and empathy have been gravely hurt when he became too strong. They also don't show Saitama observe with a blank face at any point, they rather show him trying to shut his ear because of loud noise.

By comparing between the canon and rewritten chapters, you can see the master writer and mangaka at work when it comes to proper characterization. Because Saitama's empathy is real and Blast well...is not empathizing or trying to remain emotionally detatched from everything. And ONE had to lay some more foundations here.

There was also the problem of mischaracterization of Saitama as someone who would just stare at this blankly, instead showing that there is a lot of hidden depth to Saitama's emotions and empathic skills. Which is probably an oopsie from miscommunication between Murata-sensei and ONE, but it could also be...intentional, considering the parallel timeline Empty Void can cause. Which would be so ultra meta if we could also observe the parallel timelines from rewritten chapters, the "what if" scenarios if you please

These kind of characterizations are the reason for many a rewritten chapter, intentional or not. Each one is still very important because choices matter and real humans can be very complex.

Generally highly emphatic people hate to see others get hurt because they feel that hurt so keenly themselves, so they have to take some distance emotionally as self-protection, else they're going to cry their eyes out when they hear polar bears no longer have place to live since ice caps are melting, during a nature document. 😂That or they can get compassion fatigue from doomscrolling or nursing, so empathy can definitely be seen as double-edged sword.

Blast could also be doing this emotional blunting for self-protection...but insert doubt. He has those rose tinted glasses on and is in for a harsh awakening. And Blast should start caring less about people he cannot save and focus on those who can actually be saved.

Blast may be the #1 hero in rank, but he's not number one hero on heart and he still has a lot to learn even as a middle-aged dude. He could learn a lot from Mumen, Genos and Saitama. He's isolated himself from the realities of OPM world by surfing around with his Blasticide gang.

As my buddy @gofancyninjaworld stated and I quote, "I've been saying that Blast is not a good hero. A pretty mediocre one, in fact."

And most importantly...Blast needs to take off those rose-tinted glasses. They're a bit too shady. He needs to see things with clear eyes for once.

Tl;dr Blast is shady and pining after his buddy a bit too much.

#opm #one punch man #opm meta #opm blast #empty void #saitama #character analysis #amoralism #empathy #rewritten chapters #monsterization #my own work #long post

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the-boy-who-fell-from-the-sky · 1 year ago

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I suddenly hit water hard. It's painful and I gasp

I feel myself sinking but feel feathers beneath me, large and sturdy, before I pass out

Maybe I am dead.... that wouldn't be bad....

"WAKE UP"

A British voice called....is God British?

"Oh please do wake up, won't you?"

I slowly open my eyes and am greeted by animals....are these what was talking....

"Are you alive dear boy?"

I look up and see a tan man in a winter cap and lab coat.

"Uh...I think so..." i slowly stand up, confused and in pain and soaked to the bone.

"You gave me quite a scare there, but you seem unharmed- if a bit cold, thank goodness"

"Where am I..."

"You fell from the sky I can understand being confused but you don't even know where you are?" He looks confused and worried. He examines me, "I must say, your clothing....how unusual, you wouldn't happen to have an acquaintance in these parts, would you?"

I look around....it looks like a random beach in the middle of nowhere.

"I doubt it.."

"I see your in quite a pickle here.... do have anywhere to stay, I can give directions"

"I've got nowhere."

"So you know no one and know no place to sleep..." He sighs "quite a pickle indeed, are you sure you can survive?"

"Somehow I guess" I look down.

I'll just find my way to the nearest cab...though something feels old here....

"Well, no gentleman would leave someone in need."

One of the creatures, a tan owl with a bowtie? hoots as the other two, a blue otter and a large shrew with orange spots chitter.

"Oh I'd completely forgotten, I'd just caught up to these three runaways when you fell....it's almost like they new you'd wash up here." He chuckled as I stared at the strange creatures. "Ah but do you even know what pokemon are?"

"No..."

"They are the magical creatures who inhabit this land. And these three belong to me, mysterious though they are. Oh I forgot to even ask, what might your name be?"

"Lucas, L-Lucas Blight sir."

"Oho what a unique name. It has quiet a ring to it, must have such meaning to it."

Yeah, my last name means misfortune and it shows.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome dear boy, I am Laventon! I'm somewhat of a pokemon professor. I am a scholar seeking to learn all about pokemon and deepen our understanding. Such as these three here-" The trio of creatures were gone, running up the path. "OH BLAST AND BOTHER!" He cried out "my darling pokemon! Why must you run from me....again." I try not to laugh as he turns to me, "I'm terribly sorry, do you think you could help me round them up?" I nod as he smiles before turning to give chase. I follow suit.

What have I gotten myself into

First

Previously

#pla #pokemon legends arceus #professor laventon #cyndaquil #rowlet #oshawott #Lucas Blight oc #pokemon oc #hisui #yes this wont be word for word #wheres the fun in that #i forgot just how british this man could be

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saratogaroadwrites · 2 years ago

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Adamantus (5/12)

Adamantus | saratogaroad rating: G+ total wordcount: 15,328 characters: Aulea Lucis Caelum, Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Lucis Caelum relationships: Aulea/Regis, Aulea & Noctis other tags: Mother-Son Relationship, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence warnings: Character Death Starts The Plot

When Noctis is three years old, Regis takes ill. The doctor tells her that he will recover, that all will be well.

It isn't.

Aulea Lucis Caelum is left to raise a son on her own, knowing that a Kingdom depends on her strength and will to survive.

She will not lose him, too.

"Niflheim?" Aulea asks, eyebrows somewhere in her hairline, "Niflheim was behind the attack on the Citadel?"

"Yes, Majesty," Cor hands her another clipboard, pictures of half familiar faces clipped to arrest records. "Several staff members were found to have received Niflheim coin in exchange for opening service entrances or smuggling explosives to the upper levels." He shakes his head, lips curled in distaste. "We suspect they're after the Crystal."

"If Niflheim wants the damned thing so badly," She hisses, "Let them have it!" She smoothes out the wrinkles in her skirt with one hand, feeling a headache begin to take root as her Crownsguard pull on her magic for aid in holding back the monsters at the new wall that is still being built. "It's of no use to us anymore."

And better to let their blasted Emperor deal with the blighted Draconian still hiding in its core. They'd be a match made in the Beyond for certain.

"And in exchange?" Cor's calm voice pulls her back. She purses her lips, trying to remember that he didn't spend years fighting the Nifs alongside his brothers-in-arms to give up so quickly. She unclenches her fist from her skirts once more.

"Peace. Without them banging on our wall every five seconds."

"Niflheim will never give us peace, Majesty," Cor retorts as they sidestep a knot of children headed for a courtyard, ball in the hands of their leader. Her thoughts turn to Noctis, sequestered away with Nyx, Ignis, Gladiolus, and Nyx's young sister Selena. Children should not be locked away in rooms for their own safety. They should be free to play in the sun, to scrape their knees, to throw balls through windows. She shakes her head.

"They will have what they want," Aulea says, gathering her skirts into both hands as they take the stairs to the throne room. "And the Beyond take them should they break a deal. I'll draft a treaty tonight."

"As you will," Cor says dutifully. She can read the lines around his eyes, knows he hates this plan, and hates that she can't do anything about that. She must focus on her kingdom, on her people. They deserve better than to be trapped in the Citadel like this, packed in like fish in a can. She takes a breath, swallows her desire to apologize to his old wounds, and moves on.

"Where are we on finding out more about the Accursed?" She asks as they walk. Cor inclines his head with a grimace.

"Not as far as I'd like," he replies, "The Hunters have been seeking the Tombs and their archives with Cid and Weskham, but the books are old. All we know for certain is that King Izunia had a twin brother, but there is no record of him to be found in Leide."

Beside the first king and yet struck from the record. Aulea frowns, pensive. A death in early childhood, perhaps? Or a scandal in older years. The time of King Izunia Lucis Caelum was over two thousand years ago, in a time where the Old Wall was the city's first line of defense, when the Oracle actually communed with the Gods. There is no one left alive to ask, and though Shiva has granted them aid she does not trust the Goddess as far as she could be thrown.

Maybe Sylva will know more, she thinks to herself. Then she frowns deeper because Sylva has not answered her letters in months. If only the remaining network of communications towers had ever reached past the borders of Lucis. This would be simple if she could just call her friend.

"Majesty," one of her Crownsguard interrupts her thoughts as they come to the door to the throne room. The poor man looks harried, eyes lined with fatherly concern. She blinks. Is that...blood, on his otherwise pressed dress shirt? "I'm very sorry, Majesty, but there is a young girl calling herself Lunafreya requesting an audience with you. She says she hails from Tenebrae, but--"

Cor gets the doors mere seconds before Aulea can knock them off their hinges. Elemancy sings beneath her skin, an instinctive defense of a child as she runs, her heels clicking on the marble beneath her as she takes the side door, stumbles past two of the unfilled Council chairs, and stares over the railing.

Months ago, Sylva had sent photographs of her children with a letter. They had spoken of someday, far in the future, joining their lines in matrimony. Ravus had a kind smile and a nose much like the late King Fleuret, but Lunafreya...

Even with blood splattered across her face, even with her body seemingly more bandage than princess, Lunafreya Nox Flueret looks almost exactly like her mother.

"Lunafreya!"

Pale blue eyes snap to her. Aulea runs for the stairs, drops the elemancy, and takes the steps three at a time. The nearer she draws, the worse Lunafreya appears. She is bloodstained and soot-caked, her pale blonde hair chopped short around her ears. Her eyes are lined with red, but even as her nine-year old body trembles, she tries to drop into a curtsy. Her knees almost give out; Aulea thanks Shiva she reaches the poor girl before she can drop. Lunafreya leans into Aulea's touch as the queen steadies her, hands upon her shoulders, with a hiss. She's cold as ice.

"Lunafreya," She says more calmly than she feels, "What happened to you? How did you get here?"

Lunafreya shakes her head, an age of wisdom in her baby-cheeked face. Etro, she's just a child! How has she made it across the sea, across the world, on her own? Where is Ravus, Sylva, her retinue? The thoughts turn spirals in Aulea's mind as Lunafreya gathers the strength to speak. When she draws breath next, Aulea can hear it rasp.

"Tenebrae has fallen," She says in a voice that still rings across the throne room despite the rawness to it. She sways forward, body finally beginning to give in to exhaustion, but her eyes are clear. "Queen Sylva Nox Flueret is dead."

Aulea's heart stops.

"Niflheim has taken Tenebrae," Lunafreya says, her eyes on Aulea's, "And they march on Lucis next."

Then she collapses against Aulea's chest and goes still. Heart cleaving in two, Aulea scoops up the slip of a girl and turns around. Cor is halfway down the steps, close enough to have heard Lunafreya's words, and has gone pale. There is no denying what has to come next.

"Bolster the Wall," Aulea tells him as she takes the stairs up as fast as she can. Lunafreya needs help, a doctor, a miracle. She will not let this poor child die here. "And then prepare your finest for infiltration."

"To where," comes Cor's voice as she passes him, "Majesty?"

She turns, looks over her shoulder as she reaches the doorway.

"Niflheim. The time for deals has passed." She looks down at Lunafreya's face and knows, no matter what, there can be no turning back now. Perhaps there never was. "It is time we fight back."

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fic #!fic #series: crystalline shards #fic: adamantus

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lailoken · 4 years ago

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“The idea that associating faeries and Witches with the dead related to an initiatory phase of the faerie encounter makes sense of why faeries are often confused with the dead, and why Witches are relentlessly associated with death. The Witch as poisoner of the well and bringer of disease is much like the apples of the Underworld upon which the Queen of Elphame claims "all the plagues of hell are upon," which could even be taken literally as diseases.

There is a risk in passing through the realm of the dead to get to the Crooked Path, there is a risk of an incomplete initiation that brings back demons of madness and disease instead of healing powers. For this reason many of the motifs of Witchcraft have to do with initiatory death and the Underworld, even though it is as much about the realm of Faerie as it is about the world of the dead. What we see in Witchcraft are images of blackness, skulls, bones, poisons and narcotic ointments, curses, animalistic transformations, cannibalism, perverse sex, and sorcerous tortures. This is all the uninitiated or partly initiated ever get to see. Our faerie light, the cunning fire, is hidden from view, but hidden in plain sight.

Initiation in other shamanic cultures involves things like dismemberment, eating of the flesh and blood by demonic entities and heating and forging symbolism. Eva Pocs talks about the way something was often removed or put in during a Witch's initiation in the Balkans. She says the removal of a bone or even the little finger was required in some parts of Europe. Just as Witches sucked illnesses or fairy darts out in the British Isles so did other Witches remove a bone from the body of an initiate, scratch them and take their blood for a pact or take something else from them that would serve as a relic of their personal power. The procedures of healing and the processes of induction into the cult resonate profoundly, and initiation can be seen as a form of drastic healing.

Things may also be inserted into people's bodies, both by faeries and Witches. You can see in the following charm that way back since the dark ages both faeries and Witches have been linked together in the practice of throwing elf shot or "witch shot" as it was also called.

The tenth century metrical charm “Against A Sudden Stitch" (WiÐ fœrstice) offers remedy against sudden pain (such as rheumatism) caused by projectiles of either ése [gods], ylfe [elves] or Witches (gif hit weere esa gescot OÐÐE hit wœre ylfa gescot 0ÐĐº hit wære hægtessan gescot) “be it Ése-shot or elf-shot or witch-shot." This brings to mind the physical ways in which Witches are renowned for putting things in people, such as pins of blackthorn into the heart of a poppet doll. The bewitched were sometimes seen to vomit up pins, and the tangled hair of the one who had hexed them. In this way both for good or ill, Witches and faeries were united in being held responsible for either removing strange body parts like an extra unnoticed bone, or instead inserting magical objects into the body of either a victim or potential initiate. As we have seen, when it comes to the realm of Faerie and humans the only difference between victim and initiate is a strong familiar spirit who acts as a kind of bridge and guide between the worlds.

Eva Pocs gives an account of how death and resurrection experiences were part of becoming known as a woman or man of Faerie. Lady Wilde also spoke how Irish Faerie Doctors often acquired their trade through having spent time in Faerie following abduction. Pocs tells us in her Fairies and Witches at the Boundary of South-Eastern and Central Europe that the living ones, as in people who had not passed through the initiation trauma, were not permitted to gaze upon the Otherworld in Balkan traditions. But the light-shadowed people who were either faerie already, or who had been taken away and "changed" were allowed to know it. The light- shadow was perceived as an aura around the person's head like a halo.

"As far as 'transitory death' and temporary soul journeys are concerned, they, according to several beliefs, mean initiation; if someone has ever looked into that other world,—eg. Has seen the fairies who must not be seen by a living person,—from that time on he/she is considered initiated." Or as another account from the area puts it: “The faeries killed him but revived him, giving him power."

During these abductions the iele takes out a piece of bone and replaces it with a stake or wheel spoke. One year later in the same location they put back the removed bone. This trope of something being removed or inserted into the body of the initiate is found in many shamanic cultures throughout the world. In some cases the shaman is believe to be in possession of an extra bone that must be counted by the spirits.

These faerie motifs of abduction, initiatory death and repatriation into the community with altered status, and the insertion or removal of body parts and blood are all clues to better understanding how Witchcraft flows forth from the Faerie Faith. Eva Pocs points out the following similarities. Just like faeries:

"The witch, for instance, flies in the form of a crow or a whirl-wind, sits in a swallows nest, where she seems to sometimes be little, sometimes big, and sometimes disappears, she walks on the top of trees as quickly as the wind; or the whole witch company 'transforms into crows and alights on wil- lows'. They travel in green coaches on the top of the trees..."

Of course this close connection between the Faerie Faith and Witches was muddied by persecution of the Craft. The faerie practices were increasingly assimilated into the household and moved away from the wilderness, with Sicilian Fairie Witches going from house to house, rather than out into the forest. Meanwhile Witchcraft was given all of the dangerous Otherwise characteristics, the ones so crucial to initiation that were slowly being stripped from the faerie narrative. In the process the realm of Faerie was losing its teeth and claws, and Witchcraft was being vilified almost out of existence.

All of the negative or dark attributes of the faeries, which were originally part of their primordial ambivalence, were gradually settled on Witches. Cunning practices became strongly associated with Faerie, and Witchcraft with demons, even though originally it is almost impossible to make this distinction in a meaningful way. In this way most forgot that Witches serve with the right hand as surely as they blight with the left, a characteristic shared with the fées of Brittany. Faeries throw darts and blast crops as surely as they bestow blessings and cure the diseases they cause.

LOnce faeries, and the human practitioners of magic who had faeries for familiars, both shared in those characteristics, including the ones that do mankind good, and those that do mankind ill. Faeries, and the Witchcraft that grows forth from it into the human side of the hedge, carry with them all the plagues and poisons of the Earth, and also the potential inoculation and medicine that affects every cure.

Only those who have passed through the world of the dead are offered access to the Third Path. Only he who has walked that path and come back wearing the virid doublet of Faerie and learned to keep silent, can now come back and eat of the fruit upon which all of the plagues of Hell alight to find the secret of their cure. In the Underworld, the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life and Death are the same tree.

Even in Britain where we don't find the bone tak- ing motif and only occasionally see an explicit spiritual death followed by resurrection, we do find the passing of the breath, where a Witch's shadow is able to enter someone else, giving them soul, through the breath and mouth, or illnesses is sucked away with the mouth. Witch teats also allow something to be sucked away as a form of nourishment to the familiar, who also sometimes drank the Witch's blood drops. Familiars were sometimes put in another person by blowing them into someone's mouth and we may conjecture during sexual encounters with faerie beings where vital force was being taken out and inspiration put in.

The relationship between faeries and Witches is as much peppered in the language of consumption and assimilation through eating as it is in sexual ex- pression. Witches and their familiars live off each other, eat of one another. Here do we perhaps find the origins of the "eat of me" theme behind the Housel or Red Meal. Where some Witches consume the body and blood of their Devil and his Dame, just as the Christians consume Jesus Christ.

In this natural religiosity of consumption and mutual nourishment we see the foreshadowing of all such edible sacraments. The spirit world is understood to enjoy blood. As early as the 13th century in Ireland Alice Kyteler sacrificed a black cock at the crossroads to the spirit Robin Artisson, her spirit lover and familiar—himself a man of Faerie, a dweller at crossroads.

Jeffrey Burton Russell says of Robin Artisson: “As much like a faerie as a witch's familiar, Robin appeared in a number of shapes, a cat, a shaggy dog or an Ethiopian."

Alice was also said to gamble about on a salve-covered broom (no talk of flying on it only of putting ointment on it mounting it and moving around) so perhaps something was introduced into her body via the salve. Even if the straddling of the broom does not suggest intimate applications of the unguent, flying ointments, regardless of how they are administered are always an herbal formula given to them from outside the hedge, which is put into the body via the pores of the skin.

Another Witchcraft tradition, prominent mainly in Britain that involves taking something out, is the practice of taking blood above the breath. This procedure, where one suspected of bewitching someone was attacked and scratched badly enough to make blood flow, usually above the nose and mouth, was believed to neutralize their power for a time. We can conjecture that the reason has to do with the way power or Virtue is considered to be stored in blood and breath and is connected via an invisible thread to the power of the familiar spirit nourished by these two things. The Witch's power and virtue is expected to leak out in great glut in blood above the breath because so much power lives in the skull. Drawing the blood above the breath can be seen as an attack on the Witchs familiar as well as herself. It is quite illuminating to look closely at the scratching attack on Joan Guppy, whom we have mentioned earlier in relation to Faerie Doctoring.

"They scratched her face with overgrown brambles, saying that Guppy 'was a witch and they came for the blood and they would have it and her life also before ... they left her." Not just blood but "the blood" — witch-blood. This statement is reminiscent of the sweet blood faerie Witches were believed to have in Sicily. We can conjecture that when they say they came for the blood and would have "her life" before they left, what they actually meant was her soul force or magical virtue, as they didn't actually kill her. Witchblood, sweet blood, the power that holds a tenuous thread, like a bridge made of one hair, between this world and the paradise of Elphame—a thread that must cross the abyss of Hell and is like-wise just as capable of unleashing it.”

—

Sounds of Infinity

Chapter 9: ‘Faerie Doctors and Magicians’

by Lee Morgan

#sounds of infinity #Lee Morgan #Gloaming folk #faerie #fair folk #the fae #faerie faith #faeries #faerie doctor #faerie witch

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raeynbowboi · 4 years ago

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How to Build Apollo in DnD 5e

That’s right, today we’re tackling a herculean task by trying to build the golden boy of the Olympic Gods: Apollo. Now, obviously, we can’t build Apollo as an actual factual literal god, it would break the game and it would be preposterous. However, Apollo translates really nicely into DnD. He has many skills, multiple powers so that we don’t have to pad his spell list with crap, and he’s also shown off his fighting style across multiple myths and legends. Keep in mind that while I am using Apollo himself as our template, this is also a GREAT resource for if you want to play as a Demigod child of Apollo (such as Will Solace), a worshipper of Apollo, Apollo’s chosen champion, or if Zeus has condemned your godly gloriousness into the pimply awkward adolescent body of one Lester Papadopoulos.

To start things off, we should examine Apollo’s many skills, abilities, and his MANY MANY MANY domains as a god.

Athletics - Apollo is the god of athleticism, though he shares this domain with Hermes. The original Olympic Games were held in his honor, young Greek boys held him up as the ideal of masculine physicality, and they still crowned winners with his sacred laurel wreath long after the games stopped being held for him.

Animal Handling - Before giving them to Hermes, Apollo was a pastoral god with a herd of cattle, and he also has horses that draw his solar chariot across the sky. There’s also art showing Apollo riding on the back of a swan, and he had a crow as his sacred messenger at least until he got angry and burned its feathers black.

History - Apollo’s been around a long time, and more importantly, he’s the second smartest and the second wisest of all the gods after only Athena herself. He invented mathematics, and two of his muse daughters embody history and astronomy, big staples of Ancient Greek scholarly rhetoric. A third daughter covers epic poetry which by modern standards would make her the muse of novels and plot-driven storytelling.

Intimidation - Diomedes carved a bloody canyon through the Trojan forces, but one threat from Apollo was all it took for him to scamper off with his tail between his legs.

Medicine - Apollo is the god of medicine, and as such, would be good at healing and checking for injuries.

Performance - This one’s a no-brainer, Apollo is the god of music, the father of the muses and the demigod Orpheus, and beat pan in a well-known musical battle.

Perception - Apollo is the god of prophecy, it’s hard to get the drop on a guy who may have seen your attack coming 30 years before you tried anything.

Persuasion - With the possible exception of Zeus and Aphrodite, Apollo is definitely a contender for the largest list of lovers by a single Olympian God. They had a terrible penchant for ending poorly, and he didn’t always pass his persuasion checks, but dang it if he didn’t try his hardest.

Religion - Apollo is a god. This is where I’d put any skill check for knowledge of Greek mythology, such as remembering myths, legends, heroes, demigods, the weaknesses of monsters, and mythological artifacts.

Now that we’ve covered Apollo’s skills that we should aim to provide him with, let’s examine his domains and abilities for appropriate spells, and figure out what spell lists he needs to be pulling from.

Magical Abilities

Archery/Athleticism

Divine Favor (Paladin, War Cleric) Heroism (Bard, Paladin, Battle Smith Artificer, Order Cleric, Peace Cleric) Hunter’s Mark (Ranger, Vengeance Paladin) Jump (Artificer, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Longstrider (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Ranger, Wizard) Zephyr Strike (Ranger) Cordon of Arrows (Ranger) Enhance Ability (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard, Glory Paladin) Conjure Barrage (Ranger) Crusader’s Mantle (Paladin) Flame Arrows (Artificer, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Haste (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard, Land Druid (Grassland), Glory Paladin, Vengeance Paladin) Lightning Arrow (Ranger) Skill Empowerment (Artificer, Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Conjure Volley (Ranger) Steel Wind Strike (Ranger, Wizard) Swift Quiver (Ranger)

Disease

Inflict Wounds (Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin) Ray of Sickness (Sorcerer, Wizard, Death Cleric) Ray of Enfeeblement (Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Vampiric Touch (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Blight (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin, Alchemist Artificer) Sickening Radiance (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Vitriolic Sphere (Sorcerer, Wizard) Contagion (Cleric, Druid, Oathbreaker Paladin, Undying Warlock) Harm (Cleric)

Fire

Create Bonfire (Artificer, Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Firebolt (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard) Burning Hands (Sorcerer, Wizard, Light Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Hellish Rebuke (Warlock, Oathbreaker Paladin) Aganazzar’s Scorcher (Sorcerer, Wizard) Dragon’s Breath - Fire* (Sorcerer, Wizard) Flaming Sphere (Druid, Wizard, Alchemist Artificer, Light Cleric, Celestial Warlock) Heat Metal (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Forge Cleric) Scorching Ray (Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Fireball (Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti) Flame Stride (Artificer, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Fire Shield (Wizard, Wildfire Druid, Armorer Artificer, Battle Smith Artificer, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Wall of Fire (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Forge Cleric, Celestial Warlock, Fiend Warlock) Flame Strike (Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Devotion Paladin, Glory Paladin, Celestial Warlock, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Immolation (Sorcerer, Wizard) Investiture of Flame (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Delayed Blast Fireball (Sorcerer, Wizard) Firestorm (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer) Incendiary Cloud (Sorcerer, Wizard)

Healing

Spare the Dying (Artificer, Cleric) Cure Wounds (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Celestial Warlock) Healing Word (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Alchemist Artificer) Healing Spirit (Druid, Ranger) Lesser Restoration (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Celestial Warlock) Prayer of Healing (Cleric) Aura of Vitality (Cleric, Druid, Paladin) Beacon of Hope (Cleric, Devotion Paladin) Mass Healing Word (Cleric, Alchemist Artificer) Greater Restoration (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Celestial Warlock) Mass Cure Wounds (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Battle Smith Artificer) Heal (Cleric, Druid) Regenerate (Bard, Cleric, Druid) Mass Heal (Cleric) Power Word Heal (Bard, Cleric)

Light/Sun

Dancing Lights (Artificer, Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Light (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Wizard, Aasimar Race) Sacred Flame (Cleric) Faerie Fire (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Light Cleric, Twilight Cleric, Archfey Warlock) Guiding Bolt (Cleric, Glory Paladin, Celestial Warlock) Branding Smite (Paladin, Battle Smith Artificer, Hexblade Warlock) Blinding Smite (Paladin) Daylight (Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Sorcerer, Celestial Warlock) Dawn (Cleric, Wizard) Destructive Wave (Paladin) Holy Weapon (Cleric, Paladin) Wall of Light (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Sunbeam (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard) Crown of Stars (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Holy Aura (Cleric) Sunburst (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard)

Music, Sound, Etc.

Vicious Mockery (Bard) Word of Radiance (Cleric) Thunderwave (Bard, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard, Armorer Artificer, Artillerist Artificer, Tempest Cleric, Fathomless Warlock, Genie Warlock (Djinni)) Knock (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Shatter (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Armorer Artificer, Artillerist Artificer, Tempest Cleric) Thunder Step (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Divine Word (Cleric) Power Word Pain (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Power Word Stun (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Power Word Kill (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)

Prophecy/Divination

Guidance (Artificer, Cleric, Druid) Detect Magic (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Identify (Artificer, Bard, Wizard, Knowledge Cleric, Forge Cleric) Augury (Cleric, Druid, Wizard, Open Sea Paladin) Find Traps (Cleric, Druid, Ranger) Locate Animals or Plants (Bard, Druid, Ranger) Locate Object (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Wizard) Clairvoyance (Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Wizard, Great Old One Warlock) Divination (Cleric, Druid, Wizard) Commune (Cleric, Glory Paladin) Legend Lore (Bard, Cleric, Wizard, Undying Warlock) Contingency (Wizard) True Seeing (Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Foresight (Bard, Druid, Warlock, Wizard)

SPELL DISTRIBUTION

In order to determine the best way to play Apollo, I’m going to showcase how many spells they get from each group, and add on additional spells based on class features, subclass spell lists, et cetera. The ultimate goal is to try and find a balance between as many of Apollo’s spells as possible.

Bard: (4,0,1,7,3,6,8) 29 + Magical Secrets (6-8): 35-37 Cleric: (1,3,2,14,9,2,10 ) 41 + Light (6): 47, Death (4): 45, Grave (3): 44 Paladin: (3,0,0,3,5,0,2) 13 + Devotion (2): 15, Glory (5): 18, Vengeance (2): 15 Ranger: (11,0,1,3,1,0,4) 20 Sorcerer: (5,5,14,0,5,3) 32 + Divine Soul (32) 64 Warlock: (0,4,3,0,2,5,2) 16 + Celestial (8): 24 Wizard (7,6,15,0,7,7,10) 52 + Theurgy (26): 78

RACES, BACKGROUND, AND ALIGNMENT

Racial Options

As an Olympian, Aasimar is a good fit for Apollo. He gains a resistance to Radiant and Necrotic damage, healing hands, and the light cantrip. Since Apollo doesn’t fly around on his own, the best choice for Apollo would the Scourge Aasimar.

Another good choice would be Variant Human. Give Apollo +1 DEX, +1 Casting Stat, take Athletics, Performance, or Perception for your skill of choice, and give him the Alert feat so he can never be surprised or Fighting Initiate to give Apollo the Archery Fighting Style if you’re not planning on giving him any Fighter levels.

Viable Backgrounds

Acolyte (Insight, Religion) Athlete (Acrobatics, Athletics) Entertainer (Acrobatics, Performance) Noble (History, Persuasion) Custom Background: Olympic Athlete (Athletics, Performance)

CLASSES, SUBCLASSES, AND BUILD OPTIONS

BARD

In terms of raw flavor, Bard is probably the best choice for Apollo, as being the god of music and poetry, as well as his numerous romantic entanglements, fits the image of the classic DnD bard. The Bard’s magical secrets also ensures that any non-Bard spell you really want can still be collected. While Bard doesn’t have the highest count of compatible spells, Bard has a nice, even distribution of Apollo’s abilities, with a little bit of almost everything. Casting with Charisma is also very on-brand for Apollo’s general depiction in media. The bard’s ability to steal any spell also means that it can exploit the Paladin and Ranger spell list specifically and swipe their high-level spells much closer to the bard’s early-to-mid level.

LORE

The Lore Bard specializes in learning and recounting tales of myths and legends, collecting information and gossip, and sharing insights to those who seek it. A rather fitting choice for the master of the Oracle of Delphi and the father of the muses. The added magical secrets is also a great choice to give Apollo more versatility in his magical abilities. The Lore bard also expands its skill list, which is fitting for the overly talented god of music.

VALOR

The bard of the Battlefield, the added focus on melee combat means that this build option is a good fit for not neglecting Apollo’s mastery of archery as a major component of combat without needing to take levels of fighter.

CLERIC

A very good contender for the build, Cleric is the only class out of all of the options that got at least 1 spell in all 8 categories. As Apollo is the god of healing and medicine, Cleric provides the biggest selection of healing spells, as well as the most radiant damage. Clerics have good Hit Die, and with enough Constitution can withstand damage long enough to aid and heal themselves and others. They get access to plenty of divination spells to call upon the help of the gods and the forces of luck and fate at play in the universe to guide them. On the character level, Apollo does seem like the sort of god that would worship himself.

LIGHT

Far and away Apollo’s best choice for building him as a Cleric, Light gives Apollo access to more fire spells to fit his solar theme, and the ability warding flare is rather fitting for the god of light to use.

RANGER

If Apollo didn’t have so many other abilities, Ranger might have been a great choice for him. If you want to fixate entirely on his role as an archer and a hunter god, then by all means, Ranger is a fitting choice for Apollo in that respect. But when taking the whole of his mythos into consideration, it leaves too much on the cutting room floor, and the only real reason I’d consider giving him Ranger levels is that Hunter’s Mark helps encourage him to use his archery skills more.

SORCERER

Honestly, this one might have had a chance if not for Sorcerer’s abysmally small spells known. Thanks to a lack of subclass spells and having to stretch 15 spells across 9 spell levels, the Sorcerer walks away with the smallest spell list of ALL the primary casting classes. It doesn’t matter that Divine Soul Sorcerer gives Apollo access to a wide variety of spells because his miniscule spell book means that he can’t flex that variety whatsoever.

DIVINE SOUL

I wouldn’t advise building Apollo as a sorcerer, but if you’re set on Sorcerer, the Divine Soul is the best possible origin for Apollo, as it gives him access to radiant, fire, divination, healing, and ‘disease’ spells.

WARLOCK

Warlock is a surprisingly decent pick, especially if you’re playing a mortal that obeys Apollo, or even if you’re as Apollo himself swearing fealty to Zeus, Helios, or some other celestial entity. By making Apollo’s pact boon the Pact of the Blade, Apollo can make his pact weapon a bow and arrow, and unlike the Paladin smites, the Warlock can Eldritch Smite with their bow.

CELESTIAL

Like Ranger, the Warlock prioritizes Apollo’s skill with a bow over a lot of flashy magic, but unlike the Ranger, by following the Celestial patron, Apollo gets a rather decent assortment of radiant spells and healing spells. It can’t compare to the shere volume of the full casters, but it certainly works in Apollo’s favor.

WIZARD

Due largely to the Wizard’s massive spell list, it’s not surprising that Apollo actually has an impressive variety of spell options that work for a Wizard build. Lore wise, Apollo as a wizard makes some sense, as Apollo is considered to be clever and wise, even if he is not the single smartest god on Olympus. However, that wide range of magical power comes with two shortcomings: Wizards can’t learn healing spells, and it abandons his archery skills by the side of the road.

BLADESINGER

While the bladesinger does seem to favor melee combat, nothing says that you couldn’t multiclass a little with Fighter or Ranger to give Apollo Archery fighting style and prioritize Apollo’s bow as a bladesinger. Everything else works rather nicely, giving Apollo additional speed, AC, magical power, striking power, and attacks. If you’re hellbent on Apollo being a Wizard, but you still want to give him the melee option, the Bladesinger is the best option to do this with.

DIVINATION

Probably the wizard subclass everyone would assume for Apollo, Divination is one of Apollo’s primary gimmicks, and the portents of the Divination Wizard are ridiculously overpowered. It’s amazing, and the kind of game-breakingly good skills you’d expect when fighting the god of prophecies.

THEURGY

Although technically UA and no longer valid, if your DM will permit the Theurgy Wizard, this is the only way to play Apollo as both a Wizard, and as a god of healing and medicine. Furthermore, Apollo can straight up steal domain features from the cleric domain he chooses, and unlike the Cleric where the choice of Light is obvious, the Theurgy Apollo has a little more wiggle room, since he already gets access to most of the spells we chose Light for. As such, Apollo could choose Life to supercharge his healing, Grave to keep people from dying, or even War to be better adept at fighting with a bow. The choice is really yours and how you feel Apollo works best as a build.

BUILDING APOLLO AS: A VALOR BARD

Race: Scourge Aasimar (+2 CHA, +1 CON) Background: Entertainer (Acrobatics Athletics, Performance) Class: Fighter (1), College of Valor Bard (19) Skills: Animal Handling, Medicine, Perception, Survival Alignment: Chaotic Good

Fighting Style: Archery Number of Attacks: 2 Damage Resistances: Necrotic, Radiant Instrument Proficiency: Lyre

STATS STR 10 DEX 20 CON 14 INT 8 WIS 10 CHA 20

Skill Expertise (4): Athletics Medicine Perception Performance

Bardic Magical Secrets (6): 4 Divination 5 Swift Quiver 5 Contingency 6 Sunbeam 8 Sunburst 9 Mass Heal

Apollo’s Spell List

C Dancing Lights, Light, Mending, Message, Vicious Mockery 1 Cure Wounds, Detect Magic, Hunter’s Mark, Faerie Fire, Thunderwave 2 Lesser Restoration, Locate Object, Shatter 3 Clairvoyance, Mass Healing Word 4 Locate Creature 5 Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds 6 True Seeing 7 Regenerate 8 Power Word: Stun 9 Foresight

BUILDING APOLLO AS: A LIGHT CLERIC

Race: Variant Human (+1 Wis, +1 CON) Background: Entertainer (Acrobatics Athletics, Performance) Class: Ranger (2), Light Domain Cleric (18) Skills: Animal Handling, Medicine, Perception, Survival Alignment: Chaotic Good

Fighting Style: Archery Feats: Alert

STATS STR 8 DEX 16 CON 18 INT 8 WIS 20 CHA 10

Domain Spells:

1 Burning Hands, Faerie Fire 2 Flaming Sphere, Scorching Ray 3 Daylight, Fireball 4 Guardian of Faith, Wall of Fire 5 Flame Strike, Scrying

Apollo’s Spell Book

C Light, Sacred Flame, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy, Word of Radiance 1 Cure Wounds, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Hunter’s Mark, Inflict wounds 2 Augury, Lesser Restoration, Locate Object 3 Aura of Vitality, Clairvoyance, Revivify 4 Aura of Life, Divination, Locate Creature 5 Contagion, Dawn, Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds 6 Harm, Heal, Sunbeam 7 Fire Storm, Regenerate 8 Sunburst 9 Mass Heal

I won’t go through the process of building the Warlock or the Wizard, as I only decided to build the two I felt had the strongest case, but I think Apollo came out fairly well considering the monumental task of cramming so many skills and abilities into a single playable character without cheating. Apollo is certainly a tricky god to build, but one that I feel came out pretty well.

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utilitycaster · 4 years ago

Text

a noncomprehensive overview of L13 for the Mighty Nein

Noncomprehensive, as always, means if I said something wrong corrections are welcome but if I left anything out, I probably just don’t care or feel the reading audience needs every single possible example. With that said!

everyone gets +5 proficiency bonus now, good for them

Starting with Fjord: confirmed third level in paladin which means Oath Time. I really hope he goes to the temple of the Wildmother in Nicodranas or something. makes a day of it. gets fish and chips to celebrate. Anyway I personally feel the thematically most appropriate oaths are either Redemption or Ancients. Oath of the Ancients is fucking dope, to put it lightly, and is about being a source of light and hope. It’s often called a green knight, it’s got thematic ties to nature, and it slaps. Meanwhile Redemption would play into Fjord’s arc and honestly the Mighty Nein’s whole vibe although one of the tenets of it is Wisdom (not a mechanical thing, like, he can take it, just...it is about thinking through the consequences of your actions). Either way, he will get some additional oath spells that will always be prepared (oath of the ancients means he will always have speak with animals and the comedic possibilities with Sprinkle cannot be understated; redemption does give him sanctuary and sleep). He’ll also get some channel divinity options, and he is now immune to all disease.

Beau: as per usual one more ki point, and tongue of the sun and moon which means she knows every spoken language and any creature who can understand a language can understand her. It is implied this comes from touching the ki of other minds and so she can’t necessarily read something if there’s no one around who speaks that language, but she can be understood/understand others and I think it’s reasonable to assume this applies to lip reading as well from her observant feat last level. This is the coolest ability and anyone who says it’s fluff is incorrect.

Caleb: L7 spells! Liam has heavily hinted towards teleport and Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion, but he also has access to plane shift which I suspect will become very relevant very quickly, some further Big Illusion Magics, and some real fucking hardcore damage spells, most of which he will not take (Prismatic Spray and Reverse Gravity are super cool but will possibly kill Fjord or Yasha in a melee situation; Beau has high wisdom and dex plus evasion and slowfall so actually she can avoid most of the negative effects and I do in fact want to see Reverse Gravity fighting with a monk; make this happen, upcoming Killing The Cerberus Assembly arc. Finger of Death, meanwhile, is very necrotic, very Delilah Briarwood, and very much not Caleb’s style. Crown of Stars is an interesting option and I like it although it doesn’t seem in line with his aesthetic. Delayed Blast Fireball, on the other hand...)

Veth: Level 3 spells, off the enchantment and illusion sections of the wizard list (though she can take a spell from any school next level) and she can now, as a bonus action, distract enemies with mage hand to give herself advantage. As anyone who’s done 1v1 damage consideration knows, rogues, despite their loner reputations, sort of need allies to do their damage. This circumvents that admirably and she can just do it every turn. Anyway, not sure what she’ll take, but for sheer comedic purposes I am voting for Phantom Steed.

The Clerics: also L7 spells! Highlights include: Plane Shift, Resurrection, and Regenerate, and my favorite new discovery in Xanathar’s, Temple of the Gods, which is sort of a cleric-flavored godly take on Mordenkainen’s with some excellent buffs to healing (also, it can’t be dispelled though it can be disintegrated). There is also Firestorm which seems more Jester’s style than Caduceus’s (and which we saw in the Chantry of the Dawn fight), although idk Caduceus is pretty down with Blight.

Yasha: increased Brutal Critical; 13 isn’t a huge level for barbarians but 14 gives her her next path feature, which allows her to keep raging even when she is, technically speaking, supposed to be dead (also if she gets healed while raging even while technically supposed to be dead she is no longer dead, without a need for resurrection). With level 15′s ability, persistent rage, she becomes almost unkillable. Path of the Zealot is basically about not dying out of a combination of faith, rage, and spite, and I really vibe with that sentiment.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #CANNOT WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK #mighty nein

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kaiju-z · 4 years ago

Text

Seon Adventures, episode 33: “Dog is God Spelled Backwards”

Following the level up and meeting with Arkniel, the party would go to Crystalgate. There, offscreen, they each would invest in the 5,000 gold that each of them had received and would buy certain items and provisions they’d see as worthwhile and important for the time to come.

Once they had completed what they wanted to do in town, they would reconvene at the Eastern exit of Crystalgate and make their way out and onto the dusty road... towards the border. And beyond.

On the way there, they would be shadowed by a mysterious redhaired woman, bedecked in worn out armor and weaponry, quite obvious in her approach towards the group.

After some discussion between the party, it would be Luck, who’d approach and ask her what was up and why she was following them. She was completely taken off guard by this and would introduce herself as Luandala Mistsplitter, a duelist for hire.

And she had been hired to challenge a certain tiefling ranger to a duel to the death, on someone’s behalf.

Much to Mournimar’s surprise and to the party’s, it was not his mother that was the client and, from what they figured, based on the gender being male, which Luandala accidentally spilled, even though it was a vow of secrecy... Mournimar would suggest it was his ex-boyfriend, Lazarus. Another Drow, who he had a tragic history with.

The spunky, if wethered by age and battle, duelist would ask Mournimar if he was down to the duel to the death and Mournimar would decline. It seemed illogical to persue this quest. Furthemore, the rest of the party would chime in that it would be quite easy for them to just gang up on her and take her out. So why not just give up and move to Sa Doma, as per the suggestion of Jun. Start a new life there.

Before Luandalla could even express how much money she’d need to start over somewhere, Luck had already handed her 200 gold pieces (she would have said a second later that she’d need 50 and then Luck, in turn, say to use them for good).

With directions from the Disguise Duo, both in locations to visit and money to spend a plenty, Luandalla would end her quest, which she had previously said would mean her life, and carry on to Sa Doma...

With that problem solved, the party would carry on with their carriage and tense atmosphere, going past villages and nature, drawing closer and closer to the border, seperating Aetorumia and Gulorum.

And they would have completely missed a river, had it not been for noise of some sort of conflict.

The party would be drawn to a location, where a duo of armed men had netted a dog. Bandits, perhaps, or trappers, who were to catch and sell this pupper for a high price?

It made sense at the time, as the dog was quite rare in it’s appearance. A Corgi. Male, as the party would later learn as he called for help from Morgan, asking him to get his entorauge to rescue him.

And... A fight would break out, right as the Mournimar, Belli and Morgan charged in, the latter half of the party keeping a distance at first. A fight that would start the moment the net carrying men called for back up, shouting “INTRUDERS!”

As a number of armed men, from leathers to chain mail and ultimately plate, with a variety of weapons, ran out of their hide out, a cave, across the river, the fight would begin.

It was fast, brutal and with almost no room for the band to make headway in combatting The Cultbusters, who as a force of Level 9 were too strong for mere crossbows and swords.

Between Jun’s fast footwork and piercing attacks with the Gambler’s blade, invoking her Bloodhunter abilities as needed.

Between Belli’s animating objects capabilities, bardic insults and her new dabbling into Dominating the mind of the enemy.

The overconfident Luctan’s semi-ok skill with the crossbow and a Guiding Bolt that would explode a man to vapors, much to the tiefling’s own shock.

The ranger, Mournimar’s sniping skill with the bow, striking true where it counted.

And Malak’s regretful, but determined Bless and Blight...

All, but one of the men were slain.

The last remaining of them, Luctan had attempted to spare, for one reason or another, and had attempted to send on his way with a promise of changing his ways. The others, less in the mindset, would approach and Jun would tie the man down with her Tentacle ability.

He would be questioned and it would come out that he as a soldier in the war, who never returned home. And, fro mthe way he spoke, it was assumed that he and his now-dead comrades had all deserted at some point?!

He had family in Crystalgate. Last having seen them, it was his wife, two children and a third one on the way. Something, which pissed Belli off, during the interrogation. To abandon your family was a sin worse than death, it seemed, for the lyrical Narah, who moments prior had enchanted this man to (unsuccessfully) deman one of his allies, much to the horror of the thought.

In between all this, the Corgi, who had shocked everyone by casting spells not but moments prior (A radiant Eldritch Blast here, a trippy Hypnotic Pattern there) would speak. And all that collectively would shock everyone still alive in the area, but the canine himself. It was insane to see for the group, but in the midst of battle, with the red mist over their minds, they hadn’t completely aknowledged things).

His explanation on what happened was, and thanks to Belli’s arcane knowledge she’d understand what happened, that he once looked through a book and suddenly he gained sentience. Quite possibly, he read the necessary lines for the Awakened spell.

Regardless. As things were, the man was spared. And let go, with the demand by the party that he return home, to his family, in Crystalgate. With Belli ordering him to speak to her father and find work under him.

A burrial, for the fallen soldiers, followed, initiated by Malak, followed by Luctan and finished with the rest of the group, before a Prestidigitation cleaning process.

The talking dog, named Samson, would join the group, upon regaining his equipment. And together, they would carry on, wordlessly, until they reached the border. The only conversation happens between Samson and Orion, whom Samson immediatelly dislikes, upon learning how he is being misused as Familiar and how content he is with his role.

He’d make moves to correct the Fey creature’s behavior by tricking the party into believing that Orion wanted to join them in their combat activities. Be a useful lil’ man.

At the border, there is a rest station, a small town named Nisca, for provisions and necessary equipment, to help travelers one way or another in their treks.

Within the area, the general population is mid-life and beyond, worn down by time and life in general. What soldiers the party meets are in various states of health, going from healthy, to injured and recovering. The past war’s scars remain deep upon their frames, as the party notes, setting their carriage someplace proper, before taking to the local tavern.

Specifically, before that, though. Samson would approach a fountain, at the bottom of which he and the party could see coins. It would appear that this was a memorial countain of sorts.

Not that it bothered the pup to hop in the water. But before he could do anything naughty, Malak would pull him back out and carry him underarm to the tavern, “The Warrior’s Rest Inn” (Inn, in theory, anyways), where their 7 of them, Morgan included, would have their meal of meat and potato stew and drink of ales, wine and brandy.

They’d take to rooms, with Belli and Mournimar nabbing one, Samson occupying one of his own, for himself and Luctan, with Malak as his watch, the remaining one. Jun would opt to sleep in the carriage and ultimately having the best sleep of the group.

As the rooms’ beds were made for function, less for comfort.

In the middle of the night, two things happened.

First of all, a determined little Samson would trot his way out of the Inn and back to the fountain. Where he’d summon a mage hand and bring out a number of coins, for himself.

Which would trigger a reaction, before the pup could skitter his way back to bed.

In an instant, three ghostly figures would rise from the fountain and begin approaching the dog, who dared steal from this memorial for the fallen.

With a well precisioned Deception, however, Samson would counter and make them believe that he was just a doggo, normal and natural, instead of a magical being. And instead, have them focus on the magehand, which carried the coins.

The ghosts, revenants, specters, what have you, would attack the hand and pop it like a balloon. And once the coins returned to the fountain with a light splash, the Celestial Warbork would dash his way back inside and hide in bed.

Second of all, Malak would approach Luck and wake him with a light kick to get his attention

The two would then have a conversation about the recent developement... The Chain Devil and his imps that came for Luctan, under his mother’s orders. The very fact that Luctan was the child of Potentia, Malak’s most hated enemy among the evil deities.

Malak would express to Luck, in a quiet, but determined, serious and calculated tone that the next time they come for him, and they would, surely attempt another abduction, he’d be putting the rest of the party in danger once more.

Luctan agreed, sadly, that this would be the case. He would try to keep his emotions in check in that moment and betray no sorrow in the truth of the matter, as he had practiced and trained to keep these things in the past. A politician’s skill, as Ficus would put it, had he been there.

Malak would make it clear to the tiefling that the next time it happened and he’d have to choose between Luck and the rest of the party, he’d send him to Hell himself, if it meant ending this hounding.

Luctan would nod and acknowledge and understand and accept his actions, remorse slipping by the calm mask he’d try to keep during the conversation.

Malak would take something from his pocket and reach it over to Luctan, telling him: “You’re not the only one with problems.” And Luck, before noticing the item being passed over, would agree. “I know.”

“Good.” Malak would answer and hand him an oval shape. A ball. An orb. Magical in some way.

“Something to help you in your travels, as you are new to these lands.” he’d state, before the two seperated and returned to bed.

Luctan, looking between the magical orb and the gifter of said orb for quite a while, would soon find himself asleep. Mercifully, with no attacks this night, from his mother’s servants.

In the morning, during breakfast, Malak would catch everyone’s attention and speak up, making an announcement.

He would speak from the heart with few words, but each of them held power, conviction and... frankly, disappointment. With the party and how they handled themselves in that recent fight.

“I feel it was beneath you and beneath me.” he’d say.

He’d particularly express his distaste with Belli’s choice of casting Dominate Person. While the spell can be useful in many ways, the way she had used it was horrible. “How would you feel if someone dominated you and made you attack your friend? Castrate them?” he’d ask her in his own words and Belli would admit her regret, once it was pointed out to her.

No amount of verbal acrobatics and athletics would change the fact that the party had brutalized those men, over the perceived “crime” of netting a dog, to sell. Which is a thing that people have done in the past, without any high horse death sentences thrown upon them.

In hindsight, they should have shown more mercy than they did. And also in hindsight, regardless of the status of Samson, who, along with Morgan, had been eating near the table, during this discussion.

This had given them pause. Malak’s logic was infallable in that moment.

The group had been cocky and seemingly uncaring of the lives they had cut short. And they had been uncaring. Be it because of past experiences or their own personalities getting the better of them.

Luctan specifically would look to his hands at that moment. The hands that held the orb that now occupied his journal case had so callously casted a Twin Guiding Bolt at two of the deserting soldiers. Missing one, obliterating another. And he’d think of what he had said at the time, to Malak. “Don’t worry, I’ll hit the other one next time.” Completely tone death of the situatio nthat had transpired.

While most of the party express their regret of their decisions that day, the damage had already been done and the men were irreversably dead.

The right thing to do onward would be to do better and that may just happen. But that is for another experience, for the party to see.

With Malak finishing his piece on this subject, he would then proceed to hand out gifts for the rest of the group, as he had for Luctan the night previously. Jun gets a smooth pipe of river stone. Belli receives a pouch, bright and in vibrant colors. And Mournimar - a flower pot, filled with Soil. Currently Empty.

Each item has a function to them, revealed in the order of:

Jun's gift, Pipe of Remembrance: This long, delicate wooden pipe features a bowl made from smooth river stone. When the pipe is lit, smoke exhaled from it does not dissipate, instead lingering around the bearer. After 10 minutes, the smoke forms moving shapes that reenact the bearer’s most impressive and heroic achievements for 5 minutes. When this realistic performance is complete, the smoke dissipates. The pipe can’t be used this way again until the next dawn.

Belli's, Handy Spice Pouch: This belt pouch appears empty and has 10 charges. While holding the pouch, you can use an action to expend 1 of its charges, speak the name of any nonmagical food seasoning (such as salt, pepper, saffron, or cilantro), and remove a pinch of the desired seasoning from the pouch. A pinch is enough to season a single meal. The pouch regains 1d6 + 4 expended charges daily at dawn.

Mourni's Pot of Awakening: If you plant an ordinary shrub in this 10-pound clay pot and let it grow for 30 days, the shrub magically transforms into an awakened shrub at the end of that time. When the shrub awakens, its roots break the pot, destroying it. The awakened shrub is friendly toward you. Absent commands from you, it does nothing

And Luck got an Orb of Direction: While holding this orb, you can use an action to determine which way is north. This property functions only on the Material Plane.

With the gifts handed out and Malak laying out the moral failing of what had transpired, the cleric would go, finish his meal outside.

While doing so, Samson would go with Jun to the fountain, where he’d ask her about the party and whether this was a common occurance. She’d explain to him that she only knew the party for a week, two almost. And generally, the atmosphere was, yes, very tense with this group.

Always something that’d happen.

Samson, who had previously sassed the Changeling woman, would then find her a kindered spirit. The new person to the group and he’d swear to her that, should rocks fall on the party or something, Jun would be the person he’d jump to shove out of the way.

Which is. Very sweet from the sentient pupper. And Jun would appreciate him for that.

Once mealtime was done, the party would gather in their carriage and, after Luck left seven gold coins in the fountain and Malak collected a map for their travels, to aid them further, along with Jun’s knowledge of directions towards Tatum, they’d set off on the next part of their journey. Out of Aeterumia and off to the third country on the continent of Seon: Galorum.

To Galorum, to Tutum. And to The Temple Of the Slayed Prince.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

#art #my art #Seon Adventures #D&D #DnD #Dungeons & Dragons #Dungeons and Dragons #Belli Narah #Half-Orc Bard #Jun #Changeling Bloodhunter #Luctan Evenchord #Tiefling Fighter Sorcerer #Malak #Human Cleric #Mournimar Da'Vir #Tiefling Ranger #Samson #Corgi Celestial Warlock

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jackdawyt · 5 years ago

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Solas: “I walk the dinan’shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

Lord of Tricksters and He who Hunts alone, kin to His People. He who could walk on both sides of Gods without fear, they all trusted him, and all of them were betrayed. He told the Creators that a blade was forged in the heavens and the Forgotten Ones that it was hidden in the abyss, and when they went searching for it, he sealed them both in their realms forever, paying the ultimate price. He comes in humble guises but strikes those who are vulnerable, Thedas has never been in more peril than ever before, Fen'Harel will rise again.

Hey guys, Jackdaw here! Given the many revelations of Tevinter Nights, we have a lot of plot threads and teases hinting at what Solas may do next in his grand scheme to destroy the Veil and restore the Elven Kingdom. Indeed, the Dread Wolf has risen, and we’ve got a lot of theorising to do!

So, with that said, I ask that you don your tinfoil hats, respectively, as we examine the Dread Wolf rising, and the next stages of Solas’s scheme that will inevitably destroy Thedas.

Sandal: “When he rises, everyone will see!”

Fen’Harel has risen as a beastly and ill-natured creature held from within, mantled in the disguise of an elven mage.

Discovered in “Callback”, the final Fresco that Solas drafted out in Skyhold’s Rotunda before leaving the Inquisition, revealed an outline of a beast stood over a stabbed dragon; two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass with confused forms. The beast is shown to be a horrifying wolf, having absorbed the dragon’s power, stood crooked over all.

“The eighth and final panel of the fresco, meant to commemorate the battle against the blighted magister Corypheus, was unfinished. It showed only rough shapes, outlines that the mass of color crawling around the room now rushed to fill. And as detail and depth emerged, something was wrong.” (Callback, Page 121).

The depiction of the unfinished fresco relates to Solas’s embrace with Mythal at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition. For many years, we’ve been scratching our heads about this exchange between Mythal and Solas. Thanks to Tevinter Nights, and more aptly, Solas. We have the truth.

“But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.” (Callback, Page 122).

This fresco uncovers that Solas absorbed an unknown quantity of Mythal’s power, with her essence he can rise as the Dread Wolf. For what purpose, we’ll discuss later. However, an essence of Mythal, somewhat lives on, as she seemingly placed a piece of herself into an eluivan before Solas took the majority of her power, in order to rise.

Mythal: “It was only a piece, but that’s all I needed”.

I certainly don’t think that’s the end of Mythal. I believe quite the contrary, I think Solas’s scheme that has been set in motion was Mythal’s idea in the first place. Without her power, Solas wouldn’t be able to rise as the Dread Wolf. It’s only because of her immolation, he can rise! I think Mythal too will rise in the future, perhaps in another body.

Regardless, the fact that Solas engraved rising as the Dread Wolf with Mythal’s power in Skyhold, before the orb broke, proves that Solas always intended on meeting Mythal, to take an aspect of her power.

Mythal’s sacrifice was never a backup plan to Solas, regardless of his orb’s destruction. Solas always planned on paying her a visit, with or without the orb, having the same intention of absorbing her power so he could rise.

The orb would only fulfil one purpose, and that’s to rip a hole in the Veil. Whereas taking Mythal’s power had a different purpose – to prepare for Solas’s transformation into the Dread Wolf. And, so with that power now invested, the Dread Wolf has risen. But only willingly on Mythal’s part.

Solas: “I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time…the world of the elves.”

With the orb’s destruction, Solas will be looking for a new way to destroy the Veil. Perhaps the Red Lyrium Idol is his backup attempt, and tracking down the Idol is his current quest, so he can successfully destroy the Veil with it, as intended.

If that solves how Solas could destroy the Veil, then what’s Solas’s plan behind rising as the Dread Wolf? He’s not rising as the Dread Wolf to destroy the Veil, so, what is the Dread Wolf’s purpose?

Perhaps Solas needs to rise as the malicious Dread Wolf so he can vengefully deal with the many hostile forces after the veil is destroyed.

Although there will be plenty of opposition against Solas destroying the Veil, like the Executors, Qunari, Inquisition and so on. Nothing in Thedas today can equal what lies beyond the Veil, lingering in many places like the Void and the darkest depths of the Fade.

Ancient beings, things left forgotten, and The Evanuris.

Solas is rising as the Dread Wolf to slay his ultimate adversaries. The next protagonist may think that we fall among that category, but nothing can measure against the insane, wicked powers of those who dwell across the Veil, and will soon be released from their shackles if Solas succeeds, and destroys the barrier protecting Thedas against the Fade.

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

Solas: “They killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

Mythal was murdered by her own people, the Evanuris, in their lust for power, they betrayed her. When the Veil is destroyed, Solas will rise as the Dread Wolf, seeking justice for Mythal’s murder, he will find and kill each member of the Elven Pantheon that wronged his queen. The deaths of the False Gods will bring forth a new elven empire ruling over Thedas, with Solas and Mythal at the top.

Flemeth: ”Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me and I will see her avenged!"

I believe that Mythal exchanged the majority of her power to Solas, so he could follow her scheme of vengeance/justice against the Evanuris. Through the ages, Mythal seeks her own reckoning against those who betrayed her, her one aim has always vengeance. With Solas waking from his long slumber, the two have since schemed an ending against the Pantheon. Solas, using Mythal’s power, and rising as the Dread Wolf will be the False God’s demise.

Solas and Mythal will have their vengeance, and a new world for the Elven people. However, the Veil hasn’t been destroyed yet, and there’s still time to stop Solas from reaching that reality. The best lead on Solas’s plan regards the Red Lyrium Idol.

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (TDWTY, Page 490).

“He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Red Lyrium Idol is still a mystery, and I say that with exasperated lungs, because I’ve talked about this blasted relic in every lore video I’ve created since The Dread Wolf Rises trailer back in 2018. Because of that, I’m going to rush through the details on this Idol.

It’s been described as: “a couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves”, or “a god mourning their sacrifice.” However, disregarding what it supposedly looks like, this idol belongs to Solas. It’s his, and he wants it back, he has a purpose for it.

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.” (TDWTY, Page 496).

For what? Well, Red lyrium is known to thin the Veil, and this idol has magical properties too. It’d be a pretty good catalyst for the Veil’s destruction.

Secondly, when the Idol was used in a blood and binding ritual, it revealed a most intriguing ritual blade, perhaps Solas wants or needs this blade. Could this be the blade to end all wars? Does he need it to finish his ritual? Or is it just a nice sharp dagger to cut Lavellan’s heart out again?

“It was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern.” (TDWTY, page 495).

And my final reason for justifying Solas’s genocidal actions.... In “The Hunt of The Fell Wolf” codex, Ameridan killed a great canine beast with a mysterious ‘fade touched’ Idol. This Idol was the only thing that ‘could prove the monster’s doom.’

“The wounded knight in darkness

Found within the cavern's gloom

An idol of fade-touched stone,

Which could prove the monster's doom.”

(The Hunt of the Fell Wolf, Stanza 15)

Perhaps this Idol from Ameridan’s story is the very same Red Lyrium Idol, and Solas is looking for it because the Idol is one of the only things that can stop and kill Solas, just like the beast in the codex. So, if Solas finds the Idol before anyone else, he’s got full security over his own victory, and no one can stand against him.

The Red Lyrium Idol belongs to him, perhaps it’s like a ‘Horcrux’, you destroy the Idol, you destroy an aspect of Solas? If that’s too far-fetched, then perhaps the Idol is just very strong with its magical properties, and Red Lyrium compound, and that’s what can defeat Solas. Or, potentially, the ritual blade released from the Idol is the ultimate blow against him? It’s really a matter of tinfoil at the moment.

What’s unknown is the Idol’s location. Does Solas already possess the Idol? If not where is it? More apropos, who has it?

This seemingly pre-veil artefact found in the Primeval Thaig by Hawke, which was then stolen by Varric’s Brother, Bartrand. And then sold to Knight Commander Meredith, who crafted it into a greatsword, that granted her, and the sword magically capabilities. Apparently when Meredith went boom and almost destroyed half of Kirkwall, the sword made from the idol was also destroyed, however, the idol stayed with Meredith as she transformed into a red lyrium statue. It lingered for a while, until the Carta extracted the idol using a potion created by a Dalish Elf. It was then sold to House Qintara in Tevinter, the house traded it to House Danarius for information, then a Magister from House Danarius took it to the Grand Necropolis for a ritual. The ritual ended in chaos and flames as the Dread Wolf was summoned, however, the idol escaped Fen’Harel’s grasp, as a noble’s son grabbed it and fled into Tevinter lands. At this point, the idol’s location gets a tad fuzzy, apparently the idol somehow made its way to an auction, off the coast of Rivian, on the Island Llomerynn. Supposedly, the Dread Wolf made a physical appearance and took his idol back, and that’s the end of it. However, it seems that this could’ve been framed as a lie, or bluff, so Solas could retrieve the Idol, and stop those who seek it from getting it. (TDWTY, paraphrased a lot lol)

In short, the Idol’s whereabouts are set up for interpretation in “The Dread Wolf Take You”, by the end of the story, we don’t quite know where exactly this idol is, and even if we take a guess, it doesn’t feel concrete... Did Solas actually take the idol from an overbearing auction, with quite the hysterical crowd located off the coast of Rivian? (doubt face) Or did a Noble’s son smuggle the Idol safely back into Tevinter war-torn territory?

While, I lean to the side; Solas lied throughout the story, so therefore he doesn’t have it, and it’s somewhere in Tevinter, in the occupancy of Maker-knows who.... That still doesn’t give us any clues.

Fortunately, we have some new information, so we don’t have to continually guess, like a dog chasing its tail. Thanks to Dark Horse, Dragon Age comic writer Nunzio DeFilippis, we have an understanding of where this idol was originally supposed to go, before the comics were reworked with Dragon Age 4’s iteration reboot.

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial BioWare Forum that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the Red Lyrium Idol. The original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the Idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed.

So, regardless of where the idol may be right now, is Solas’s retrieval of the blasted thing inevitable considering the comics would’ve had this plot solved before the next games launch? Is it a matter of time before Solas finds his idol? Or has the plot changed a lot since then? Maybe we’ll have a shot at grabbing this idol before Solas gets his hands on it in the next game?

With that, we don’t have a solid placement for where the Idol is, but we can assume that it will end up in Solas’s hands soon enough. However, regardless of the Idol, Solas already has set-out an ominous ritual to destroy the Veil.

Solas {He} sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.” (TDWTY Page 506).

Whatever this ritual is, beats me. Solas mentions that it’s going to take a few years until it’s complete. And then boom, it’ll be down with the Veil, and the Dread Wolf shall rise.

This once more begs the question, if Solas had made plans to destroy the Veil, then why does he need the Red Lyrium Idol? But again, like I said, perhaps he needs to retrieve the Idol because it’s his greatest weakness if used against him. Once he has it, he can destroy it, or throw it in the rubbish, so no one can stop his plan.

Back to Solas’s ritual. The Dread Wolf has taken residency in the Fade, where his ritual has started to affect.

“But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly.�� (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Mortalitasi organised their own ritual to push the Qunari back home, using blood magic and binding spells. These types of magic are undoing the work Solas has set in motion, they’re a hinderance to his ritual. Therefore, the Dread Wolf made his presence known at the Grand Necropolis, in Nevarra, forbidding both types of magic, if anyone dare binds a spirit, or uses blood magic, your life is his for the taking.

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

So, clearly any magic that requires demons and spirits, or changes a spirit’s original purpose, is undoing Solas’s ritual. Most likely because the spirits of the Fade serve Solas willingly, they’re probably required in his ritual. Taking them away from that purpose, is undoing Solas’s work. Spirits and demons want the Veil to come down so many of them can pursue their desires to enter the physical world, so it’s no surprise they serve Solas freely.

Regardless, what exactly is this ritual doing? It’s already affected the Fade.... So, is Solas slowly decaying the Veil over time? Is he reaching into the Black City? Does this ritual have something to do with the Old Gods? Is it in preparation for killing the Pantheon? Is Solas’s ritual going to take him back in time to restore the Elven Kingdom? So many ideas, very few answers.

Also, to change the pace from the ritual. Let's say Solas is successful and the Veil is destroyed, how are the elves going to survive the Veil’s destruction? When talking to Charter, Solas tells her that the world will be better off for the remaining elves that survive. But how can anyone survive the Fade crashing into Thedas?

“I have no choice. What I am doing will save this world, and those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.” (TDWTY, Page 506).

Is Solas taking those he deems worthy to a safe place, so they can rebuild the elven empire once the Veil is no more? Is he building a metaphorical ark, gathering the elves, as his flood destroys all of Thedas? How can he guarantee safety to the elves? Surely, he has a plan for them to survive this calamity?

Ultimately, more questions that we’ll need to answer for ourselves when Dragon Age 4 arrives. Although we still clueless on Solas’s ritual and the Red Lyrium Idol’s purpose, I can say; without doubt, that Solas has risen as the Dread Wolf. A lupin, evil creature that seeks the end of the Evanuris, and Thedas as we know it.

Solas may think that his plan is for the greater good of his people, but I believe he’s naïve to the one who’s fundamentally been pulling the strings of his scheme all along. The one who has set his very purpose in motion, and that is Mythal. A Queen he would not see go unavenged, and someone he’d do anything to achieve justice for in her name.

I believe this trust Solas has for Mythal will be the end of him, that he is nothing but a puppet to Mythal’s plan for vengeance. I believe this conquest for justice, will send Solas down a path of anger, decay, and ultimately death.

The biggest threat against Solas is himself, as he admits, he’s foolish, prideful and doing what he must. Will we be the one to stop him before it’s too late, changing his mind? Or will we grant him a finishing blow, silencing our once beloved friend?

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grimmseye · 4 years ago

Text

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Twelve

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual),

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Violence, The best kind of romantic relationships are when you fight big monsters together

— — —

Seeing this side of the world reminded Essek why they were envious of the Empire.

The Ashkeeper peaks, at their southernmost edge, were bright with life. Even in the nighttime, the lands buzzed with a steady drone of noise, small and mundane creatures that would bear them little harm so far from the wastes of Xhorhas.

They didn’t have these luxuries of rich growth and predators that thought you too big to be their next meal. The Dynasty’s lands were long blighted, and what stood today came from centuries of building from scrap.

Essek was not much of a patriot, but he still had some love for his home, and still wanted to see it flourish. Beholding the verdant jungles that spilled out far below, he could not tamp down the resentment for what they’d been denied.

One ear flicked back at the sound of approaching steps. Essek turned as Mollymauk caught up with him, his coat draped between his arms to carry several handfuls of small, round fruit. The smile on his face beamed joy and contentment as he shuffled up to Essek and held out his coat in offering. “Blueberry?”

“Another fruit named after its color,” Essek observed, but reached for a few.

“Make sure to take the firmer ones. A mushy berry will ruin your day,” Molly advised, and Essek rolled back a few that had been soft between his fingers.

They were little blooms of sweetness on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. Xhorhas struggled to maintain their farms, druids and bards and clerics filtering out to the fields to bless the lands and enrichen the soil. While it let them till the land, magic had a way of leeching the flavor from anything that grew there. It left much to be desired beyond the edible fungi that naturally grew in the wastes.

“Good?” Molly prompted, smiling. “Hey, hey, hand over your bag, will you? I can’t carry these forever.” He reached for Essek’s pack without waiting for real permission, tugging a small pocket open to start shoveling berries inside. “Just let me know when you want some more!”

When the berries were safely offloaded and the pocket closed, they fell into step back along the deer path they’d been following. An arc of one finger sent orbs of light bobbing through the air around him to illuminate their road once again.

They had only been traveling a few hours, his teleportation spell landing them further than he might have liked. Mollymauk took to the mountains with glee, his hooves allowing him to hop up steeper slopes with ease while Essek simply let graviturgy boost him up the hills. It made him feel warm to see Molly scamper up to the crest of another slope and then spin around, absolute delight on his face as he drank in the world below them.

“Mollymauk,” he called, and watched him twitch to attention. “More berries, please.”

“Get your ass up here first,” Molly shouted down. It was a blessing that he didn’t start his usual jeering.

Once Essek had joined him, Molly dutifully opened the pouch, delivering another handful of berries. Several steps down the path, he got a tug on his arm, and the tiefling’s mouth opened wide in expectation.

“You could have gotten your own,” Essek pointed out, but fed him a berry. Teeth closed around his pointer finger, scraping as Essek pulled away.

Molly waggled his eyebrows. Essek turned to walk away.

“Gods’ sake, Essek,” Molly groaned. He caught Essek around the shoulders to pull him down, lips meeting. The hand that didn’t cradle blueberries found Mollymauk’s arm instead, squeezing in expectation for the filthy sort of kisses Molly liked to spring on him these days. Instead he found himself smiling as Molly pressed one, two, three, small pecks to his lips, and then another to his nose, and again to his lips, this time to mumble, “You’re such a hardass.”

“You’ve done nothing to discourage me,” Essek pointed out, and Molly barked out a laugh.

It made travel impossibly slow, but Essek had never enjoyed himself more on this road. Earlier in his career, he had traveled with bands of Kryn soldiers, escorting him under the night, moving quick and quiet with the constant dread of being found out beyond their borders. As he developed his skills and reputation, he’d started coming alone, trusting his own resilience to make a quick escape if needed.

Neither had been enjoyable. Being alone had been an improvement, allowing him the peace to enjoy the change in scenery, but in recent months he’d recognized something that colored all memories of his past: a loneliness that ached to his core.

Now he had Mollymauk.

The Ashkeeper peaks were home to drakes. They weren’t true dragons, lacking their power and intelligence, but hunting one down would fetch a good price in any shaded market. Essek wasn’t here for poaching, though — all he needed were the shed scales that lined their nests.

They reached the peaks a few hours before dawn. The moons had slid out of view, leaving a bright field of stars overhead. He dismissed the lights around them, and they both took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the new darkness.

Mollymauk stuck close from that point forward. His visual range was significantly reduced compared to Essek’s, and he followed close behind. When Essek’s hands drifted to his component pouches, Molly’s swords hissed from their sheathes.

He had been to this drake’s lair a few dozen times already, and knew its patterns. A male, it always left the nest at night to hunt. It dwelled in a cave at the very peak of the Ashkeepers, where snow lined its crest well into summer.

Mollymauk’s steps were near-silent in the frost. Essek cast Message, whispering “Don’t stray from me,” before he set a hand on Molly’s shoulder and cast invisibility on them both.

His grip tightened as Mollymauk’s image slid away. He kept pace, Molly’s tail weighed against his side as the tiefling eased towards the mouth of the cavern. The temperature only dropped further as they passed under its roof. The inside of the cave nearly crystalline with ice. Even invisible, the fog of their path mingled with that which circulated inside.

Essek would give Mollymauk nudges to direct him through the tunnels, the two of them slipping around frozen bends, a veritable maze carved into the mountain. At its end was another cavern, this one with walls and burrows to form an uneven landscape. Essek knew that at the farthest point, the drake’s nest would be tucked away, filled with soft snow and plant matter and any shiny thing the creature could get off the ground.

A low, rumbling sound made both of them freeze. It rolled through the cavern, bouncing off the frozen walls. They held their breaths, counting the seconds of silence before it was chased by a hissing, sucking sound.

Snoring. That was the sound of snoring. The drake was still in its nest.

Molly’s hand replaced his tail, a weight at Essek’s side. He dragged it up, to his arm, his shoulder, skimming fingers along the length of his neck and over his jaw, until he’d found Essek’s ear and held it in place. Heat burned his cheeks as he leaned down and Molly pressed close.

The tiefling’s lips were practically on top of his ear as he whispered, “Still good to go?”

His hand dipped to cup Essek’s cheek, so Molly felt it when he nodded. There was a squeeze to his jaw, and a moment later, Molly slipped away.

The absence terrified him. Essek pulled a piece of iron from his pouch and clutched it in his hand. Even prepared, he was still too far away to cast. He watched Molly’s path through the mist, eyes fixated on every uneven swirl of fog until it grew too dense to parse.

Then his eyes were focused on the drake’s nest, which hovered at the very edge of his vision. He held his breath, blood pumping in his ears.

The edges of the nest were lined with glinting shapes — silver scales. It was the sudden loss of one’s light that alerted him to Molly’s position, watching as a shape lifted, and vanished. Then, seconds later, another. Then a third. All the while, the drake in the nest snored peacefully away.

One by one, Molly plucked the scales from the nest and tucked them safely away. Essek had almost let himself breathe again — and then a scraping sound came from above.

Essek froze. He prayed Molly had done the same, ears straining for the noise. It was the echo of scrabbling talons growing steadily louder, and closer. His eyes widened as he stared at the roof of the cavern, where one of those burrows tunneled up through the mountain to open air, where another silver snout was poking through.

The drake had apparently found itself a mate. Now the new one crawled onto the ceiling, something bloody clutched in its mouth. Its wings spread, bringing it gliding down to the cavern floor, Essek’s heart leaping in his chest as it landed on the edge of the nest. It was not, apparently, on top of Mollymauk, for the drake only siddled back onto the ice and began to scrape at it with its claws.

Mollymauk was invisible. He only needed to stay still and wait for the creature to settle down. Essek repeated this in his head as he watched the chunk of meat — a torn-off deer’s haunch, he was sure — get tucked down in the ice and then blasted with a stream of pure frost from the creature’s throat. It nudged the heap left over, muzzle coming away coated in snow, and for just an instant it looked like it was going to curl up peacefully in its next.

Then its nostrils flared. The pupils dilated, a snarl echoing through the cavern, this time the breath exhaled was more than just snow — it was a cone of jagged ice, to cut and freeze and kill. Essek felt the thread of his spell snap, Mollymauk flickering into view as a silhouette ducking away from the blizzard.

Essek’s feet hit the ground. He moved faster this way, darting forward across ragged ice. The other drake was waking now, as an arc of flaming orbs formed a halo above Essek’s head and then blared jets of fire into its mate.

Molly tried to retreat, scrabbling back. The awoken drake caught sight of him and then shrieked and lunged, the first snap of its jaws missing but talons catching his thigh. Molly snarled. His sword flashed down, Essek threw out a hand. The velocity of his swing doubled just before he struck, driving the blade deep into the meat of the creature’s back.

The second, the male drake, jumped from behind Mollymauk. Essek rushed forward, squeezing the chunk of iron tight enough that it cut into his palm and willing the beast to freeze in place. His magic curled around it for only a moment before it broke free of his grasp. It snapped at Mollymauk with a vengeance, clothes shredding around its teeth and jaws slicked with blood..

Molly couldn’t escape, barred in by two of the beasts. Essek snarled to himself, shifting to an angle where he could line up their thrashing bodies. “Mollymauk,” he called. The tiefling caught his gaze, saw the electricity as it pulled into Essek’s grip, and dove for the female’s tail.

He swung forward. The air pressure dropped, and dark purple lightning burst across the floor. It caught the female in the skull, its mate springing away with a hiss. Molly took the distraction, swinging viciously into the already bloodied drake as it staggered and wailed.

Essek hesitated for only a moment before getting even closer. He could get them out, he just needed to get to Mollymauk first.

And then the female turned, frost billowing between its teeth, and both of them were surrounded by pure cold. Essek shuddered, his legs giving way, knees hitting the ground. Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, blurring his vision, skin stinging where needles of ice pricked through his flash.

He panted, gulping in a breath before he pushed himself upright. Mollymauk was still on his feet, defending himself against both of the beasts with blood dripping down his chin.

One step forward. Fresh blood drooled from Molly’s eyes, but the tail still caught him in the legs, made him stagger.

Another step. Molly dug one sword into the ice, the other glowing with radiant light. He lunged, dragging a crimson line into metallic scales.

Another step. The drakes both snarled, jaws parting in near unison, two mouths full of ice to expel.

Essek’s hand clamped onto Mollymauk’s shoulder, and he pulled.

They landed outside the cave, several hundred feet down the mountain. The shift in pressure made his ears pop as they collapsed in the grass.

For a moment, they both just caught their breath, adrenaline making his hands shake and his head swim. He listened as Mollymauk regained his bearings, shoving himself onto his knees.

“Can we run one gods- damned errand,” Mollymauk snarled, wrestling Essek’s pack away, “without something getting its teeth into me.”

There was the clink of glass. Essek rolled over, pushing himself to sit up. Mollymauk had pulled out a pair of potions, and was holding both of them out to him.

Essek frowned. “You take one,” he said, lifting a single bottle from his grip. He braced himself and downed it, the grimace from its taste giving way to relief as warmth flushed over his skin again.

Molly shrugged, pinched his nose, and did the same. Essek had to chuckle as Molly gagged and dove for the blueberry pouch.

He watched as Molly crammed a handful past his lips, then threw himself onto the ground. The grunt and groan that followed suggested the potion hadn’t patched everything up just yet.

He chuckled, and then settled his chin in one hand, elbow propped on a knee. “That was unfortunate,” Essek sighed. “I’ll have to go back to making this trip in a group if there’s a pair of them, now.” He was glad they hadn’t actually managed to kill one. If the drakes abandoned that nest, he’d be out of good components. “At least information means the trip wasn’t an utter waste.”

Molly, mouth stained with blueberry juice, suddenly perked up. He gave a wet, food-muffled noise that made Essek grimace before digging into the pockets of his coat. When he pulled his hands free, it was with a bundle of silver scales each.

Essek’s face lit up. He took the scales, even those streaked with blueberry juice, to examine them for a moment and slip them into his component pouch. Excitement thrummed in his chest. That would restore an entire batch of potions and leave him some leftover material for experimentation — he could kiss Mollymauk for that.

He could. That was the truth. Essek peeked back at Molly, to find the tiefling sitting up again with a squinty-eyed grin.

It took a moment to steel his courage before he cupped Molly’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. The shock and then delight that shone in his eyes after had some odd pride flaring in Essek’s chest.

He’d almost grown comfortable with the arrangement. Mollymauk almost always initiated, pulling him down for kisses or burrowing into his space, clinging in bed when the night was cold. Sometimes he’d push Essek down in that bed and leave marks on his neck that the mantle would hide. Sometimes Essek came home carrying tension in every muscle and Molly would nudge him against the wall and sink to his knees, or lay out across the bed on his belly, tail curling, voice goading.

Turning the tables was fun. Seeing the warmth in Molly’s eyes made his heart do something strange but not quite unpleasant.

“Let’s get a little further out before resting,” Essek suggested, before pulling Molly another five hundred feet down the mountain.

He cast a spell, then, one that Molly had seemed delighted by when he first heard of it. Magnificent Mansion was a requirement for travel. The doorway shimmered into being, and the two of them vanished inside. There were a few plants Essek will need to gather under sunlight come morning, but for now, they could lay in a bed and rest.

And they did. They sank onto a mattress, injuries still too sore to do anything but curl around each other and bask in shared heat after being doused in the mountain’s chill. Meditation was easy to slip into, the deepening of Molly’s breaths becoming the metronome to carry him somewhere beyond conscious thought.

These were moments that made him feel like even in the worst of times, things could still be okay. The yawning pit of his future had given way to a flicker of light.

He was woken by the feeling of a spell shredding through the threads of his magic.

Essek’s heart skipped the moment before he was shunted into another space. He hit the ground in a heap, gasping in one breath before the air became flame.

A scream ripped from his throat. He thought for a moment it was echoing, until he realized Mollymauk was shrieking as well. In the span of seconds, every inch of his flesh was sent crawling with agony, blood pulsing heavy under his skin and leaving him stunned when the inferno fell away.

Arrows had embedded in his body almost without him noticing. He reached for his component pouch, grabbing hold of Mollymauk as they staggered upright. He’d burned too much magic to bring them home, but maybe he could put enough distance, could hide —

The spell crumbled to ash. Essek’s gaze focused on the caster, horror twisting in his gut. Mollymauk met his eyes, then shoved him, barking, “Just run!”

So he ran, dragging Mollymauk behind him. His hand lifted to try again, just one successful cast to save them.

A series of snaps pierced his ears before the bolts drove under his skin. He pitched forward, registering only pain the second before the world turned to black.

Elsewhere, it was raining.

They stood on a hillside, the clouds opened up to a frigid downpour. It wasn’t a storm, yet, but the force of the wind was a warning.

Two pairs of hands dug through slick mud, finding the earth below loose and pliant, the grave they had dug so long ago now revealing itself as empty.

#shadowmauk #mollymauk tealeaf #essek thelyss #mollymauk #essek #cr #cr fic #my writing #queue

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wildshero · 4 years ago

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ooc: welp i went ahead and spoiled AoC for myself, under the cut are spoilers you have been warned

im super disappointed in nintendo for making everyone live. the game would have been so powerful to have the true ending that leads straight into botw. but they just love their split timelines don’t they. not every game has to end happily at risk of spoiling spider man: miles morales that game has a very bitter sweet ending with death involved, and no one is complaining. i just don’t get why they had to ahead and ruin a timeline they already firmly set up. like the game was described as being a view into what happened before the 100 years, but its not that if you go and change the whole damn story.

like ngl if botw 2 takes place after aoc i’ll be kind of disappointed, like aoc erases everything from botw

like all the heartache and shit is erased in aoc, and it takes away everything that link and zelda fought for in botw in order for it to not happen, which is fine, but at the same time like calling forth the “new” champions from the future to fight alongside you isn’t an answer to the problem. it just creates a huge paradox

so from here on out are basically my thoughts to watching the cut scenes

its just bad writing, not to mention straight up stealing the fact that zelda and impa can understand the egg from droids and their “masters” from star wars, the egg is her music box... and plays her lullaby. like stop forcing the egg on us please

why can no one see hestu til zelda can? like scuse me, no link can see the giant brocoli just fine despite this cut scene. also hestu not remembering link in botw if this scene is real? like COME ON

mipha is shit at hiding her crush

the not ganon character is a seer who wants to control their own calamity possessed egg, and sooga is like its not for mortals to control

it is weird seeing link without the slate on his armor, there’s a place for it, but its like not there.

i know its hyrule warriors and you gotta have more than two people going but like impa being there at the spring of courage... like love her all you want but nah fam this aint it also it steals story elements away from link, i know the boy is selectively mute BUT JESUS give him something please

also its like link being the hero means nothing in terms of the slate and the towers, and then the shrines. its like all of it is meaningless in this game, which like revali says what’s the point of link then

calamity comes early? what the hell? this game. im so upset, but also like rhoam getting unnecessarily angry at link for doing what he’s supposed to like jesus fucking christ then he lowkey dies like okay

purah being there when zelda breaks down and its not just link... like the whole story of botw is like fucked, and zelda has time travel tears now

like all the things that happened in botw that built the characters is erased, like everything is a group effort which like is disappointing. i love how the new champions come BUT at the same time it defeats the point of the champions ballad, and the solo battles that link has to face.

alot of the story telling elements are repeated like more obviously than in botw which is saying something

all that the new champions are seeing is for nothing... like they will go back with these memories and it will suck cause they know the current state will have been changed and so what they see will be burdens they carried alone and for nothing for their future people

link’s sacrifice is for nothing, so thanks for diminishing that for me AOC. like him fending off the four blights unlocks zelda’s power but like seriously what is the point of him in this game, he is literally useless, like he straight up disappears. and her power isn’t unlocked via her love, but seeing link fight, and then thinking of the loss of her father

the yiga joined the good side? the fuck aoc

oh link is magically back now. why is he even in this game?

her father isn’t dead but was transported to the temple of time cause of a relic zelda and her mom found. THE PLOT ARMOR, its a shield its literal plot armor oh my god. which lead to her power awakening having no real meaning

literally everything from botw is unwritten, all the strife and everything that was fought for in botw is literally gone

i liked that teba was not a fan of revali’s attitude but like he then becomes a simp for him like dude you can still be in awe and think he’s a jerk to link and in general

ah a blood moon at the end... *eyeroll* okay

harbinger ganon... *squints*

the seer becomes sucked into ganon and the egg attacks zelda and link deflects its blast killing it... WHAT IS THIS WRITING

cool zelda is crying more over this damn egg than her people in BOTW, so zelda is like 5 when her mom dies in the castle (?) its not clear, and her dad is like training only now

also the eggs name is terrako

who needs the master sword the darkness when you’ve got egg boy and zelda’s sealing power, no wonder its shit 100 years later. fi realized she wasn’t fucking needed

slice him through like butter link that’ll do it *eye roll* what happened to that courage power from the fucking master sword scene? what sealing are you doing with that sword? you sliced through him. LIKE?

things that i kinda like, and appreciate character wise

link gets flustered easily. revali revels in the fact that link will be the fallen knight and his reputation what little he has will be ruined, it is also well known that link is in fact a nobody meaning his family is not noble born, but that does not mean his family, read his father, on this blog is a nobody.

urbosa defending link from revali’s bullshit

link fighting malice champions from the totally “not ganon” hooded figure

link is officially considered a champion, and talks with urbosa

impa being pissy with the egg, i feel it. i am tired of the fucking egg pushing himself in too

sooga is the only character i want to see in botw2

link can teleport more than one person is confirmed, though three max is like it in a weakened state.

as much as i hate how many paradoxes this creates, yunobo and sidon’s enterances are very good, and teba’s and riju’s are similar. urbosa recognizing she’s in trouble is very in character for her imo.

i liked that all in hyrule worked together but like at what cost

i prefer this design of calamity ganon

the master sword lets FUCKING DISCUSS

ahahaha no. link pulls the sword when he’s a kid. I WANT TO HAVE A DISCUSSION NINTENDO GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER

like the scene is cool and all but we’re gonna be rewriting that bullshit. the only thing im taking from it is apparently link and the sword together have some courage power a-la zelda’s healing power... NOT THAT IT MATTERS CAUSE HE DOESN’T GET TO FUCKING USE IT

HOWEVER he does not pull it for the first time right then and there, sorry nope, not happening

The story is very much zelda’s which it should be, but like every moment that could have been link’s was taken by another character because of how hyrule warrior’s opperates. like if you want to play as zelda this is your game

im just disappointed, it erases everything from botw quite literally. it gives the new champions memories that they bare alone because zelda and link wont be there in 100 years to help them with it...

link was useless in the game. like you could literally write him out and have the same game, having the master sword literally does fucking nothing because of how OP zelda is. like its called legend of zelda and rightfully so but Link becomes a literal footnote. purah and others takes his place in all the important scenes that were his before.

and like i said if BOTW2 takes place after this its gonna be disappointing and not as dark as nintendo is intending IMO, they should have let this game end the way it does in the lead up to BOTW, it would have been so much more rewarding in my opinion yes you “technically lose” but you would still get some awesome final moments with zelda, and it would hype you up for BOTW.

there were parts i liked obviously, but there were major issues, and this is JUST STORY BASED, im not even talking game play.

#tw: aoc spoilers #ooc: out of memories #i am so disappointed

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lokiofnone · 5 years ago

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The people of Broxton, Oklahoma were not unlike the Northmen of the Viking Age - as unlikely as the comparison seemed. Certainly the location and climate were different, as well as the culture and the language, but for gods of Asgard, everything is a repeating pattern. And Loki had become rather adept at seeing those patterns.

Sitting atop one of Bilskirnir’s many ledges, the god of mischief swung their legs idly back and forth. It was a long way down - Bilskirnir is very tall - but what did they have to fear from something as simple as gravity? They sipped at a milkshake while surveying the blighted lands below. The homes and businesses of Broxton, once a small but bustling town and now only a series of blasted out buildings and enormous sinkholes. Lit by the Bifrost and the eternal branches of Yggdrasil, it reminded them of the ruins of old Asgard, deep in space. The main difference being that here, there was still life.

Indeed, dotted among the desolate streets were a few buildings - newly built or newly repaired - that showed signs of recovery. And why shouldn’t there be? It had been years, after all, and these people were not the type to simply flee elsewhere. Though for the most part they still gathered near the base of Bilskirnir. It was easier to stay close to each other, they supposed.

Of course, that wasn’t all they could see. Sprinkled throughout the landscape on streets both dead and alive, there was the glowing red light of ROXXON.

Lost in thought, Loki nearly missed the sound of a window opening above their shoulder. Nearly, but not quite.

“Ma says it’s dangerous to sit on the edge.”

Loki turned to see a small girl with wild hair and a smear of freckles across her nose. “Well, do me a favor and don’t tell her I’m here.”

The girl wrinkled her nose and eyed them up and down. “You an Asgardian?”

“Kind of.”

“Why are you drinking a milkshake in the snow?”

“I don’t get cold very easily.”

“Because you’re an Asgardian?”

“...kind of.”

She seemed pleased with that answer and disappeared from the window, returning moments later with a large sweater and a hat.

“Do you live here?” Loki asked.

“Yep!” The girl crossed her arms over the window sill. “Me and my ma and pa and a whole bunch of other people. Pa says we got to, since we don’t got houses no more. But it’s okay cuz this castle is sooooo big and has tons of weird stuff in it. Me and my friends go exploring but we haven’t even found half the stuff yet, I bet.”

“I imagine not. You know, this used to be my brother’s castle.”

She frowned, eyebrows drawing together in thought. “But somebody told me this was Thor’s castle.”

“The very same,” Loki answered with a nod.

Realization dawned across her face, “Oh! Thor’s your brother? That’s so cool! My friend Dorothy has a brother, but she says he’s annoying and steals her stuff.”

“Thor is my older brother, but not the oldest. We have six other brothers and sisters, if you can believe it.”

“That’s...too many. But um,” The girl tapped her fingers, seeming to be deciding how to ask something. “How come Thor gave us his castle?”

Loki looked back out over the scene below. “Do you know what happened here?”

“Ma says I was too little to understand.”

“Well, little one, I’ll tell you. But only if you promise not to get scared.”

“I’m not little.” She said while wiping her nose with her sleeve. “And why would I get scared?”

“You know how Thor is called the god of thunder because he can make lightning and storms?” Loki waited for her to nod before gesturing to themself, “Well, I am called the god of stories. When I tell a story, it comes to life in more than just your imagination. But don’t worry - I promise it won’t hurt you.”

“Now this I’ve gotta see.” She wiped at her nose again.

Loki smiled widely. “That’s the right attitude. Let’s begin at the beginning.”

The air around them suddenly began to dim, as if night were falling, followed by the winking of stars and nebulae and distant planets - and in the middle, superimposed over the latest iteration of Asgardia floating on the far side of town, was Asgard of old.

“A long time ago, Asgard floated not above Earth, but through space. It was a golden city among the stars, tethered only by the singular rainbow bridge, but connected to all realms on the world ash. It was filled with all manner of gods great and small, and it flourished. A shining beacon of magic in the starry sky.” Loki looked over to find their audience enraptured by the swirling imagery. “But nothing can stay the same forever. People grow up. They come and go. And the gods must change, also.”

Slowly, the image of old Asgard began to darken. The buildings crumbled and smoke curled up into the sky. “Exactly what happened isn’t important to this tale, but I will tell you that it wasn’t supposed to be the end. Not the real end. Through some other machinations, Asgard was laid low for good. We gods were scattered across the cosmos, and ceased to be.” The images swirled, faded, and settled onto the ground, showing the town as it once was. “At least, until Thor came here. He created a new Asgard out of the very soil, and collected us from where we were hiding. And for a time, Asgard and Broxton were one.”

The Bifrost spread from the visage of Asgard to the flourishing town below, looking for all the world like Loki remembered it. Then the scene darkened again. Loki stood from the ledge and walked out into the thin air, giving their young audience a start.

“Enter a man named Dario Agger.”

Agger faded in from the blackness, sitting at the head of a long table. Loki took a few meandering steps around him.

“Agger is the head of a company called ROXXON. He plies a trade in oil, mainly, as well as a great deal of other evil things. His company poisons the Earth, and he becomes rich.” The image of Agger tossed a stack of bills into the air, which fluttered around them before disappearing. “Now, Thor...he didn’t care much for that.”

The boardroom swirled into clouds, with Thor at the center, hammer raised.

“Thor loves the Earth. Well and truly. And he loves all the humans on it. He always has, and always will, and it will always be his downfall.” The image of Thor swung his hammer, lightning arcing off of it. Suddenly the clouds began to pour rain on Loki’s head, but they continued as if this were perfectly normal. “Thor did the only thing that he knew how to do: he attacked. He destroyed several ROXXON facilities, ending the stream of foul pollutants from their mouths, and costing the company an impossible amount of money. He believed that this was the first step on the road to saving the Earth from people like Agger, who would destroy it for their own profit. Shortly after this, he left on a trip with the Avengers. Unfortunately, this was all terribly short-sighted of him.”

The apparition of Thor swung his hammer and took off into the sky before the clouds parted, revealing the image of the once intact Broxton once more. No sooner did the rain stop than Loki was suddenly dry again. They took a few slow steps, leaving shimmering green bootprints in the air behind them.

“Thor is indeed mighty, but not all things can be solved with brute force. In the other realms, perhaps, but things work differently here. Humans are more civilized. If you hit a human, he might have you arrested. If you harass a human, he can sue you. And if you destroy a billionaire’s factories, he may take vengeance in ways only he knows how.”

A thick smog wafted in from the south, curling into the shapes of looming buildings and smoke stacks belching their toxic fumes into the air. “Agger received permission from your government to park his remaining factories here. Floating islands - a grim mockery to the nearby Asgard. While Thor was away, he polluted your air and water, bought your land, and demolished your buildings to put up his own. My brother returned to find people destitute with no work and an atmosphere so toxic that the sick and elderly were forced to go elsewhere. Even this was not enough to sate Agger’s greed. For he knew well that Thor loved Broxton, and he intended to make Thor suffer. He cared not for the thousands of lives that he used to accomplish this, only that it was done. He used the human magic called a restraining order. Thor was not to come near any property or employee of ROXXON, including Broxton. Then he hired trolls to dig under the town, creating these holes.” The ground fell away from Loki’s illusion, revealing the enormous sinkholes.

Loki disappeared, only to reappear back in their original spot on the ledge. In the distance, Asgard shone ever brighter through the smog. “And what did the other gods do? Did they rush to aid their mortal neighbors, who had done so for them whenever and however they could? Of course not. One and all, they sat in their towers, and watched it happen. How cruel. How absolutely humiliating, that a handful of humans, each with barely more than they needed, should show such hospitality, should give as much as they were able to help we the immortals of Asgard, and that none should lift a finger in their defense save for Thor himself.”

“What did you do?” Piped in the small voice from the window.

Loki pursed their lips. “I was elsewhere. A truth that I sorely regret, but I did not hear about any of this until after the fact.”

They waved a hand, and the illusion disappeared.

“Finally, Thor had enough. There was a battle that destroyed whatever remained, and Asgard decided that very day to return to the stars. They stayed only long enough to pick up the rubble. And now they find themselves laid low once again and crawl to this doorstep, only to be greeted with open arms. We gods could learn some things from you people of Broxton.”

“Wow…” The girl at the window stared outward, still deciding what to think of all this. “You weren’t pulling my leg about that story stuff. Thanks! I’m gonna go see if dinner’s ready. Do you wanna come in and eat? I bet ma will make a plate for you!”

Loki smiled. “Perhaps another time. I have some business to attend.”

“Okay! See you later!” And with that, the window snapped shut.

There was a long silence as Loki drained the remainder of their milkshake. Then, after moments of contemplation, they summoned a small notepad. They flipped a few pages before reaching the latest one, bearing a list of names and other assorted information.

To be specific, it was a list of the ROXXON board of directors. Name, location, salient details, and of course: weaknesses.

Loki had spent a few long days learning about these men and how best to manipulate them. It wasn’t often they put this much effort into a plot, but this was no ordinary mark. Thor had failed because he blundered into everything with little thought, while this matter required a gentler hand and a great deal of subtlety.

After the War of the Realms came to New York, Dario Agger had spent some time imprisoned in the Raft. But like all men with money, he would not remain so for long, and had by now regained his status with little loss. That simply would not do.

Agger began all this to get revenge on Thor. He hadn’t considered what other enemies he may have made in the process, which was perhaps his largest oversight. He may have fared well against Thor, but he would soon learn not to underestimate the god of mischief.

#prose tag #this came out way longer than i planned as fucking usual #me out here explaining comic plots for people who dont read thor comics

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twin-branded · 5 years ago

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The fall of the light, the start of the endless night

// Large piece of backstory writing under the read more! Warning: It is graphic, and I dare say not for the faint of heart. Big TWs for violence, heavy gore, and slow death, take caution friends! To those of you who press on, hope you enjoy~

- Mod Nova

This was it. The final battle of an eternal war waged since the beginning of time- the blinding light, against the all consuming darkness. Eons of this ravaging dance echoing, revived in the essence of both parties, and wearing thin in their physical forms… One blow, is all it would take, for any of the three combatants. The twin vessels ascending to chase the light, and the Radiance perched at the very peak of her prison in dreams.

In the sea of darkness that tailed the young gods in their ascent, hundreds, thousands- no, millions of their fallen kin, their silvery white eyes all in a piercing glare towards the sun herself. A crowd of the most bold, or perhaps the most raging of all the dead slithered from the safety of the shadows, chasing the light aside their living siblings, so small, and yet- so horrifying. The very darkness she had always fought with, honed into such tiny, powerful creatures… Mere children, capable of rending apart their older kin that kept her prisoner, and assaulting her.

But even as the darkness closed in; the light refused to die. As injured as she was from their cold steel fury and scorching, wrathful magic- she could tell, they wouldn’t last long themselves. Cracked, shaking, void oozing from their shells despite their persistence- the goddess screamed in outrage and defiance.

“NO! Mere shadows will not overtake me! The void may hunger, but the pathetic Wyrm's spawn cannot compare to the burning light!!”

In their path, another barrage of scorching beams. They almost stumbled in their scramble to reach the Radiance, almost fell- but there was power to working in pairs. One would always catch the other, until so threateningly close, they split up- one lunging for the Radiance, yet barely coming short of reaching her.

“ANCIENT ENEMY, I DO NOT FEAR YOU! I WILL NOT BREAK, THE LIGHT WILL NOT BE CONSUMED!”

Shot after shot, taken at the tiny shadow. The child of darkness stumbled, exhausted no doubt; a chance to end one of them, once and for all in their weakness-! … But that was only one, struggling, trembling before the light’s might, trying and failing to pull themself up with their nail. The other- damn it all, the Wyrm’s wretched spawn took up their father’s scheming mind! There was only the time for a hastily fired blast of light, and her aim failed to strike true- unlike the twin vessel’s nail. Barely leaping past the attack, the child drove the weapon directly between the goddess’ eyes, earning a horrendous roar of rage and pain- the death knell. The mark of her sealed fate.

In an instant, the situation so dire shifted- no longer was this an agonizing game of chase. The Radiance had nowhere to run… The sea of darkness closed in, as both vessels suspended in the air on either side of the doomed light. Disgusting, cold tendrils of void lashed out from below, trapping the goddess’ wings- beginning to tug on her, trying to wrench her down into the Abyss. As the Hollow Knight rose from the swarm of shades to join the much smaller assailants, the Radiance writhed in her restraints; shrieking at her seal, her living prison with seething hate.

“YOU!! IMPURE, DESOLATE BEING, YOU DARE CONTINUE IN YOUR DEFIANCE?! EVEN IN DEATH, INTOLERABLE DARKNESS, YOU BLIGHT MY EXISTENCE!”

Though to blight, was now an understatement. Perhaps an act of opportunity, or one of sheer spiteful vengeance, the Hollow Knight reached for her- sinking his claws into her face, digging lithe fingers underneath immortal carapace. A roar of pain ripped from the Radiance’s throat as the shade proceeded to rend her face open, blinding light pouring from her inner godly core. An assault from above and below, already bad enough- but it escalated, as if her practical assassins had not already ravaged her enough. Another tendril suddenly whipped across her bleeding face, stinging and leaving a golden mark. Then another, from the opposite side- a pattern immediately repeated as the twins lashed at the prone goddess over, and over, and over.

Any other being, a beat-down would have been enough. But no- this wasn’t even CLOSE. Every strike from the twin shades, exhausted, agonized, and utterly furious, bearing down harder and harder. More and more frustration, and pain, infused into every blow- years of undeserved suffering, created in cruel and unusual manners, abandoned to the Abyss, slaughtered senselessly and repeatedly! Every part of the world against them for no reason, just innocent children, forced into a horrifying, desperate struggle for their lives, constantly being torn apart and yet, never allowed the sweet release of death. All of it was her, this massive, insane monstrosity of a goddess, cursing their kingdom, their family, forcing them all to exist and die for no good reason! To suffer and cry out with nothing to ever listen! ENOUGH! ENOUGH!! Finally, the Radiance’s voice was no longer alone, the seething shades screaming in wordless, raw emotion as they continued to bloody and ruin the goddess’s form in their wrath.

As the Radiance was mercilessly beaten down, beginning to be dragged down by the tendrils wrapped over her wings… One of the two even found it in themself to speak;

"You, you are the answer I have sought after all this time! You both sparked reason for and yet condemned our existence, and it is time you face retribution for it all!! You will not be forgotten, you will SUFFER, YOUR LIGHT WILL BE DEVOURED!"

And that was no empty threat, though how the Radiance would’ve wished it so, if she had known how all too literal that was about to be. For they were not done with her yet, even as the savage whipping stopped, since having made her face and mane a bloody mess, even ripping out clumps of her silky fur.

No, this was far, far from over.

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

Hazy… Dark.. So dark. Not even the trickles of light from her exposed core could illuminate the world around her, as weary, pale gold eyes fluttered open. There was… Nothing, it seemed. And yet, in this cold black expanse, the Radiance felt anything but alone. She could not see the countless in the wings, staring her down, but she could sense their unholy, unnatural presence. She could not find the two that put her here… But there was an unsettling chill creeping down her back- a feeling never experienced before, yet somehow, internally she could still find the words for. As if it were instinct, to know this situation, this sensation… To know that she felt like prey, that could not lay eyes on her looming predators.

Though exhausted, aching, beaten down- something told her to get up. To push herself off the floor, to run, to fly, somehow try to escape. A rising need, going, and going, the want to scream building in her throat- of terror, of want for help, ANYTHING. Yet no matter how these urges overwhelmed every thought and want…

Nothing happened.

Just a mere moment ago, she was hardly able to open her eyes- but now, they were wide, glimmering with dying light as a surge of panic sunk in. Every part of her was SCREAMING to move, to get away, to scream and shout and cry- mentally thrashing, like a wild beast in a cage-!

… And yet still, nothing happened. She didn’t move… She couldn’t move. Not held down, not pinned… But paralyzed. There was no toxin rushing through her veins, but there was fear. Primal fear, of the unrelenting darkness that surrounded her on all sides.

Chilling shocks ran through her body, causing her to shiver. A sudden wet, cold, goopy sort of sensation on her wingtips- as if being dipped in some sort of icy slime. But then it turned sharp, stinging, burning in the center of it, like a cut had been made. Followed soon, by a sickening, echoing crunch in the darkness- the first sound she’d heard in an immeasurable amount of time down here. It was so small, and brief, yet it felt like thunder roaring in her ears.

Then there was a pause. Silence, the cold retreating, whatever it was… Notably sticky, as it pried away, almost feeling as if it did not want to let go.

Because it didn’t. Even though there was not much to note at first, the texture wasn’t the best, not much to speak of in terms of energy yet… One bite would not sate them even under normal circumstances. If anything, only getting a brief taste to little satisfaction made them hungrier. The cold, wet sensation of little void tendrils creeping back up, before two much larger, eager bites were taken of the goddess’ wings. Another sickening crunch echoing out to pair with each one, followed by another brief pause- the shades didn’t move back again, but they needed a moment. Something changed… They’d each bitten deep enough to draw out orange, sickly blood. And for the first time, something new hit them- flavor.

The overwhelming sweetness would’ve easily sickened normal bugs- but to rather hollow creatures, being potent enough to make them actually detect a strong taste? That was enticing. Enticing, exciting- they wanted more. As if their exhaustion hadn’t already made them ravenous, the introduction to something new had them focused on nothing else but food. And food… There was plenty of.

The pauses stopped, as bite after voracious bite was ripped from the Radiance’s wings- and it didn’t take much longer for the situation to click. The pain, the cold, the sticky grasps, the gut wrenching noise, the worst possible fate known to bug kind was suddenly befalling her. Being eaten alive. Slowly, steadily, being able to feel the starving shades chewing through her wings, working their ways deeper, and deeper on either side.

The horrific paralysis only felt worse as time seemed to be slugging along. Adrenaline surged through her body, screaming more and more to do something, anything- shake the ravenous little monsters off, fight back, to scream and wail through sheer terror and pain. It almost felt like she was screaming, as her throat strained, and heavy, rough breaths were forced out of her lungs- but there was no sound. No sound but that of the gut wrenching chewing, her body being slowly torn apart.

Mouthful after mouthful, while nothing but sheer and utter disgusting horror to any onlookers, was delightful mess to the Radiance’s attackers. The massive moth’s blood was delicious and energizing- soon, also nicely joined by a distinctly salty taste as they got to the more meaty parts of her wings. Their seemingly endless hunger made them want to rush- consume more and more, as fast as possible. Yet… In this dark realm, with their greatest foe in a trembling, tasty heap before them, this was different than anything else they’d ever known. There was no danger. No urgency. No… Greater quest to rush to work on, this was it.

For once in their lives, they had all the time in the world. All the security they could ever want… And the best meal they’d ever had laying in front of them. There was no need to rush, and have such a moment end too quickly. They could slow down, savor it, enjoy this new concept of flavor that their typical diet of soul never provided.

Though, taking time to savor didn’t mean not consistently taking bites- there was an awful lot to chew through, and they still felt painfully hungry. Perfect really, all the more room for the dense bases, right where wings met fluff-covered chitin… And nerves. Lots, and lots of nerves.

In curiosity, other shades had begun to creep closer, but all of the vessels reeled back as the Radiance let out a shrill, agonized scream. Finally, she managed to move, heaving and wheezing as blood gushed from the sloppy, shredded remnants of her wings. She had no way to push herself up- but she couldn’t just lay there! She had to think fast, the reaching tendrils of those little monsters were already grasping for purchase in the open wounds. Losing any of what little protection she had was likely to only make it all worse… But she couldn’t competently move her legs with that armor on, not while she was in this shape. After a rough and hardly effective attempt to shake off the twins, the Radiance frantically kicked off the metal armor covering her legs- whether the resonating sound of it clattering to the floor would attract any further possible attention, or scare it off, she couldn’t tell.

But moving, sitting up, struggling to get to her feet- that would not save the dying light. The young, rapacious gods shrieked in anger at this meager defiance, lashing tendrils acting like whips geared at her legs. Or… One leg, rather. Young, but not inexperienced in dealing with things much, much larger than themselves- and if they could break just one, she’d be down for good, paralyzed or not. However, it seemed there was a hope- a hope that one good sharp kick might put an end to this, they had been just as weak as her!

Though unlike the Radiance, the vessels had been feeding. Renewed by the flesh and blood they had stolen already, while she was further weakened by it. Kicking out only let them catch hold of the struggling moth, yanking and twisting until the goddess lost her balance. Sinking their vile teeth into the delicate joints, rapidly rendering the limb useless. The searing pain ravaged her mind as the pair devoured her body, her vision swimming, though with the overwhelming darkness sight was already a lost cause. Her stomach twisted and turned, the pain and disgust at feeling and hearing them eating away at her beyond nauseating- a tad ironic, how the only thing keeping her from purging her system was her own lack of eating for the last century or so, while something else ate her alive.

How long had passed, now? Minutes? Hours? Maybe even days, it felt like the most miserable, disturbing eternity. Broken, defeated, once again all that broke the silence of the Abyss was the squelches, squishes, and crunches of godly flesh and carapace being consumed. Though for a moment, their meal had been interrupted- overall, the twins were still having the time of their lives, digging in deeper and deeper. They were bloody messes, only really pausing their feast to occasionally reach up with their claws and brush off a clump or two of matted, stained moth fluff.

Said fluff was… Quite a problem, actually. Almost her entire body was covered in it, and while wings, carapace, and flesh were all game- mouthfuls of fur didn’t sound nearly as appealing. In fact, the accidental bite into it here or there was getting quite agitating. The pair stopped a moment to go to each other, and perhaps plan a way around the obstacle keeping them from the sweet insides of their prey.

As disgusting, morbid and torturous as their feast was, there was still a hint of something softer, behind those egregious maws and soulless white eyes. Their voices now merely soft, gentle chimes as they communicated, trills and chips back and forth- had any part of her numbing mind been able to focus on something other than the agony, it would’ve driven home a shameful point. At these years of struggling and brawling with the Pale King… And she was defeated, mauled, being actively devoured- not by the Wyrm. But by his spawn, mere children. Did he know what horrors he had created? Was the Wyrm aware of the power and hunger even such small vessels had?

… Maybe that’s why she had begun to sense the pale light in her domain of dreams. Maybe he was hiding, so he didn’t suffer this very same, twisted fate. Dull, hazy, drifting thoughts, the quiet and soft noises were a respite from the sounds of her flesh ripping and being consumed…

Though, the time to ponder anything was over. Another wave of searing pain left the Radiance’s mind spinning, ripping an incoherent scream of pain from her lungs. The gaping wounds where her wings had once been left openings for the pair, who were busy sinking their claws and tendrils in. Messily rasping away flesh with any grip they could get, and stuffing it into their mouths to feed their outrageous appetites. For a few moments, the scraping and ripping of flesh stopped, almost numbing cold taking over the wounds- yet despite the slight relief from the pain… Something still felt very, very wrong.

An icy, squirming sensation starting piercing into her body, not doing anything to remedy the nausea, the feeling like her gets were already twisting and writhing into knots. Everything was getting so hazy, and hard to process though… What that sensation meant didn’t even really click, until the pain spiked in an all new area- her abdomen. If her organs hadn’t been literally twisting around, now they were being twisted, ripped, rended away from each other to be consumed.

There were a few tremors that could be felt from within the goddess’ massive, increasingly hollow form… Muffled, weak sobs. Before absolute silence, and stillness. The blinding light inside her heart waned and weakened, to a barely illuminating glow- a spark, then extinguished as the ravenous maws of her killers snapped down around it. Brutalized in combat and absolutely savaged in the darkness, the ancient goddess would at long last dream no more.

Even with the Radiance’s overdue passing, the pair of shades would be taking their sweet time. A goddess did not need to be alive to give them energy, her very flesh and blood imbued with powerful essence. Still ripping, tearing, rasping away every morsel of divine flesh they could, from head to toe. They had no concept of time here- it could’ve taken hours for all they knew to strip her entirely, and there was no care. There was even the care to stop and drink the blood that had pooled in her empty carapace, so, so sweet and energizing… Not a drop wasted, save for what had miserably stained and matted her fur.

However long it took, after they were finally done- the twins finally felt content, and for good reason. The most amazing feast of their lives just thoroughly savored, their life-long purposes of destroying the light completed, their wounds and exhaustion long since mended and overcome with their massive meal of pure god essence. A success and reward long and painfully earned, their pleasure and pride expressed through chirps, trills and chimes, back and forth to each other. With all said and done, the sated shades drifted over to their elder brother, snuggling up to the Hollow Knight. They were met with gratitude for slaying the Radiance, for the soon to come freedom once they made their way back to the temple to retrieve their shells… But as the pair passed out in the larger shade’s arms, undoubtedly ready to sleep off some of their meal- the appreciative look faded, to previously hidden horror.

While the sleeping twins were blissfully unaware, it did occur to the knight… It was taboo to eat other gods, and for good reason. Aside from the sheer brutality of what was just witnessed, there was worry for the inevitable consequences. Worry for what was to come, if their appetites had reached to the divine.

#// I'm not dead!! Just been at work and working hard to crank this out #// Key bit of backstory for you all!#// Ever watch small children go absolutely feral on a moth?#// This is like. 3000+ words and about 7.5 pages worth of content be ready for a long read #No Page Unturned ✧ The Seeker #Adventure Awaits ✧ The Wanderer #She Who Ravaged Through Dreams ✧ The Radiance #Our Beloved Brother ✧ The Hollow Knight #`Higher Beings- These words are for You alone` ✧ Writings

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monstersandmaw · 6 years ago

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Dullahan ‘Choose Your Own Adventure Story’ - Part Nine (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Whuff!! I did it! First that whopper of a story for November’s Patreon ‘monthly story’ yesterday, and now this! *cracks knuckles and flexes fingers!*

Ok, here we have Part Nine. Everyone voted overwhelmingly for taking the unusual-looking path to the left, so that's where we went! No D again this week (I miss him! We need to get out of these mines!), but I promise that whatever you vote for at the end of this, he will appear again next week! (Maybe even sooner to make up for the lack of post last Friday...)

Last time we blew up the tunnels containing the mysterious and harmful crystals, but we suffered a tunnel collapse, and Kravik got left behind!! This week, we get to the heart of what has been going on in the tunnels, and why! And we meet a new character... (spoilers, I already love him)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Left. You knew that right would lead out - eventually - into the sunlight, and there would be people there who would detain you, demand information, and possibly blame you - however rightly - for the explosion. No, left it was: into the unknown.

The runes thrummed slightly as you walked past them, and it occurred to you that perhaps they had been put there to disguise a tunnel that had been there all along.

Tears tracked down your face as you made your shaky way down the passageway away from the settling clouds of dust and chips of rock. “D…?” you sobbed to yourself, knowing he couldn’t reach you, but still, it brought you some degree of comfort to think of him. Would he have felt the explosion? Would he think you’d been hurt? Oh gods, Ten was going to be furious with you when you made it out. If you ever made it out. “Gods, please let Kravik be alright…” you prayed as you made your way along the uneven tunnel, wondering if this would help your cause or hinder it. Something told you that you were getting close to the heart of all this, and that same something, that tenacious knot inside you, drove you on.

If Ten had truly and willingly given you the gift of her true name, she could hardly be angry with you for using it now, could she?

The passageway led downwards at a steady gradient, and by the feeble light of your lantern, you saw that the walls of the tunnel were even more roughly hewn than those of the main mineshaft. It was an older tunnel then, and just as you had begun to wonder what on earth lay up ahead when a faint light up ahead gradually began to eclipse that of your own as you approached, growing ever brighter, until you emerged tentatively into a larger cavern, lit by warmly glowing alchemical lamps on the walls. To your astonishment, it was comfortably furnished with tables and dressers, a wardrobe, and a desk with piles of what looked like research notes and heavy tomes on mineralogy and alchemy.

What seized your attention next, however, was a row of iron bars which fenced off half of the room on the left, creating a single, large prison cell in a spacious alcove of the cavern. Lying on a comfortable looking bed behind the bars was a figure.

He sat up as you entered and stared at you with big, black eyes. He wore a simple, white, linen shirt despite the chill, and dark brown trousers covered his slim legs. A loose, dark blue, cotton scarf was wrapped around his skinny neck. At first you took him for a goblin, but a moment of dumbfounded gawking at him revealed that he was too large to be a pure-blooded goblin. A halfbreed? Half goblin and half human? Such combinations weren’t completely unheard of, but they were certainly rare.

He looked at you with his face full of fear and then gasped, “Who are you? What are you doing down here? What’s happening out there?”

“Who am I?” you asked stupidly. “Who are you? And what are you doing down here in a cage!” You raced to the door of his cell but discovered instantly as you rattled it that it was locked. “Who’s locked you in here? Was it the mayor? Why?” Questions tumbled out of you in a torrent as the young half-blood stood up from his bed and came over towards you with a curious expression now on his handsome face.

His skin was the dark grey of a goblin’s, and he had a prominent nose and dark eyes, but his face was almost more human than goblin, and while he was short for a human, at around 4’11”, he was very tall for a goblin. He also had the slightly gnarled bone structure of a goblin, and their sharp cheekbones and jawline. His black hair was tied back off his face in a neat plait that fell to his shoulders, revealing slightly pointed ears. “The mayor?” he asked quietly. He was very softly-spoken. “You know my mother?”

That stopped you dead in your tracks. “What? The mayor is your mother?” You were appalled that she could do something so hideous to her own son, and you felt the world tilt on its axis. “Gods, what is wrong with that woman? First she poisons the goblins in this town and then she locks up her own flesh and blood?”

The half-goblin turned away, looking ashamed. “It’s not her fault,” he muttered dejectedly, his warm tenor voice cracking. “It’s mine.”

“Yours? Why?” You put your hands to the bars of the cage and fixed him with an attentive stare.

He sighed. “My senses are attuned strongly to magic,” he said, still staring at a distant corner of his cage. “I can feel that amulet you’re wearing, for instance. It’s very powerful.” He sighed again and continued, holding up his palms to gaze blankly at them. “But I cannot access my magic. It’s to do with my goblin heritage. My father…”

His bony shoulders dropped and he laughed sadly as he glanced back at you over his knobbly shoulder.

“My parents were very much in love, believe it or not. But my mother comes from a long line of very powerful mages. To bear a half-breed child is shame enough, but one with stone-bound heritage? One who cannot wield magic? A goblin?” he let out a bitter snort. “I’m a blight on the family name. So… if she can get me to open up to my magic, I can at least wield it. I’ll no longer be an embarrassment to her, and perhaps she can redeem herself a little in her family’s eyes.”

He cuffed up his shirt sleeves and you saw blue tattoos all over his skin. They pulsed and glowed in resonance with the amulet around your neck, and he clenched his fists. The bright blue markings stood out in livid contrast with his smoky grey skin, and he ground his sharp teeth before he went on.

“She’s been injecting me with the phorosnykum that she’s had excavated here in the mines. Raw, it can be lethal, and it’s almost impossible to do anything with it, but she knows how to process it here in her lab. She tattoos me with it, in the hopes that it will bypass my stone-bound blood and allow me to channel magic. It’s been done before, apparently, to halfbreeds like me.”

You swayed on the spot, and he looked up, concerned.

“You had no idea, did you?”

Mutely, you shook your head. “I have to get you out of here,” you murmured once you’d recovered your senses. “Gods, I have to get you out. Is there a key?”

He nodded, clearly debating whether to tell you where it lived.

“Please,” you insisted, clutching the bars. “This is wrong!”

His dark eyes flitted back and forth. “I want to be able to use my magic,” he said very quietly. “But… you say she’s poisoning people?” You nodded, and he shook his head, looking sick. “Not at that price…” he said. “I’ll help you.”

“There has to be another way she can do this without using the goblins like this?”

He nodded. “Of course there is. She could do it in the open, and mine it all herself, but she’s too ashamed of me to let it be known that she bore some dirty halfbreed who can’t use magic. That’s why she’s covering it all up. Magic is everything to her family. If you’re not powerful, you’re practically not worth the air you breathe…”

You scowled. “That’s disgusting.”

He shrugged and took a deep breath, focusing. “Alright. Her laboratory is through there,” he said, pointing at a doorway at the other end of the rough-hewn chamber. “There’s a ward on the door, but I think that amulet will negate it. It feels like it will. The key is on a hook on the wall just inside the door.”

You nodded and turned away, heart thudding with the maelstrom of emotions. Kravik could still be lying buried under all that rubble, D and Ten must be aware that something had happened now, and you were about to break out the son of the mayor who was being used as a laboratory experiment by his own mother. It was almost too much to bear.

Halting suddenly, you turned back and looked over your shoulder as you asked, “What’s your name?”

He beamed you a gorgeous little smile, his eyes crinkling. “Will,” he said. “I’m Will. You?”

You told him, and his smile broadened. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re the first person I’ve seen, apart from my mother, in over a year. Thank you for helping me.”

“How old are you, Will?” you asked, hesitantly. He looked like he could be anywhere between thirteen years old and twenty five - there was just no way to tell at all.

“Eighteen,” he said.

“I can’t believe she’s done this to you,” you said, shuddering, and turning back towards the laboratory.

As your palms pressed against the wood of the door, a violent flash of light burst from the point of contact, and you were thrown back onto the ground with a hard grunt of surprise.

Will yelled your name, darting to the front of his cage and grasping the bars. Your ears rang and everything hurt.

You managed to push yourself upright and, blinking, you shook your head to clear it of the ringing. The amulet, it seemed, had protected you from the full blast of the ward, but it had not negated it in the way Will had hoped. His voice reached you after a moment or two, faint and muffled still.

“…you alright? Please! Tell me you’re alright!”

“I’m alight,” you confirmed, standing shakily. “Doesn’t look like I can get in though…”

“Dammit,” he hissed. “I thought the amulet would let you in.”

Before you could think any further, he went rigid and turned towards the door. “Someone’s coming,” he said, scowling.

Your stomach dropped. “The mayor?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like her… Small feet… unsteady…” He raised his nose and snuffed exploratively at the air. “Goblin… and… dwarven black powder…?”

“Kravik!” you screeched, spinning on the spot and bolting for the entrance to the cavern.

You didn’t stop to think. It could have been anyone, anyone who had been accidentally caught in the explosions, but there, making his way slowly along the corridor, his clothes ripped and torn, his face smudged with rock dust and running with blood from a small cut on his forehead, was, improbably, Kravik.

You ran at him and swept him up in your arms, crashing down on your knees to hug the little goblin tightly to you. Sobs wracked your whole body. “I thought you were dead!” you wailed as he embraced you fondly, if a little carefully due to the bruising in his ribs. “Oh thank the gods you’re alright.”

“I’m a tough little shit,” he cackled weakly. “Takes more than twenty tons of rock falling on me to kill me.”

“How?” you breathed, leaning back to let him have a bit of space and air.

He grinned. “There was another tunnel,” he said. “It was guarded by runes or something, but the explosion must have damaged them.”

“That’s how I got in here!” you said. “Gods, how many more tunnels are there like that?”

“This whole mine must be honeycombed with them,” he said. And then his eyes landed on Will in the cage and went wide with horror. He whispered your name and looked at you. “What’s going on?”

You introduced him to Will, who seemed fascinated to meet a full-blooded goblin, and Kravik seemed equally fascinated by the mix of human and goblin features in the person before him. You told him everything you’d learned in talking to Will, and Kravik listened quietly, occasionally wincing and shifting his weight as his injuries from the rockfall pained him.

“So you can’t get into the study?” he asked when you’d finished, and you both shook your head. “You think it’d work if I try?”

You hadn’t thought of that. “You mean with your immunity to magic?” you clarified.

He nodded. “Give me that amulet though, just in case. If it protected you from the worst of it, I’d rather have it on than not…”

You drew it up over your head and handed it to Kravik, who slipped it on and shivered. “It’s cold,” he said grimly. He was limping badly and his breathing was ragged from his bruised ribs, but he was right: he was one tough cookie.

Will shot you a look as Kravik made his unsteady way over to the door. “I like him,” he whispered with a cheeky grin.

“He’s my best friend,” you muttered back. “I thought he’d died in the tunnel collapse. Gods, I’m such a wreck right now.”

Will stretched his hand through he bars and gripped your arm warmly in his thin, knuckly fingers. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “We’ll get the key and get out of here. I’ll go to my mother and tell her to stop all this. I’ll leave, abandon her name. She’ll have no connection to me any more, and no reason to want to keep doing all this.”

“You’d do that?” you asked. “You’d just abandon your family?”

He snorted and looked around at the cage. “Does family do this to its own?”

You scowled. “I suppose not. You think she’ll let you go?”

Will shrugged.

From the other side of the room, Kravik called, “Here goes nothing… Wonder if my luck will still hold…?”

He placed his hands on the door and pushed.

The same flash of lightning blasted out from the point of contact, but the door opened this time. Kravik, however, was hurled back across the room, flying much further than you had, due to his smaller stature. He landed heavily, awkwardly, and cried out. You hurried to his side, but he waved you away. “Get the key,” he wheezed. “I’ll be alright.”

Reluctantly, you left his side and stepped into the laboratory. On the desk was an open journal of experimental notes, you realised, and you grabbed it before turning and finding the heavy, iron key hanging on the wall, exactly where Will had said it would be. You snatched it down off the hook and returned to the room. Your eyes went first to Kravik, who still lay curled and moaning on the floor, but you figured that once you’d freed Will, you could tend to your friend.

You turned the key in the lock, but just as you went to swing the cage gate open, Will seized your wrist through the bars, his eyes wide and frightened. “Someone’s coming!” he hissed. “Oh gods, it’s… it’s her! Hide!”

A thrill of fear ran through you, and you found yourself rooted to the spot.

“Hide!” Will snarled. “Grab Kravik and hide!”

You turned and bolted to the fallen goblin’s side, but as you got there you realised with a jolt of horror that the key was still in the lock.

She was almost in the room.

Her shadow filled the entrance way.

You had two choices: grab Kravik and hide, or go back for the key.

______________

Hope you enjoyed Part Nine! If you liked this part, don’t forget to leave me a like, comment, and/or reblog/inbox. You have no idea how happy that makes authors and creators like me, and it makes all of this worthwhile.

And don’t forget to vote!!!!

Voting is open to everyone, so… the options are:

Pick Kravik up and carry him to a hiding place?

Go back for the key so that the mayor doesn't know Will's been freed?

Click here to cast your vote anonymously by Google form

Part Ten

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#dullahan #choose your own adventure #male dullahan #goblin #male goblin #cyoa #I'm BAAAAAAAAAAACK!#Ghosti found the mojo!

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