#sighs... two weapon.. love you dagger and rapier

[vpofcookies]

blink blinkies at you what style of fencing did you do and was it fun and did you love it

👀 👀 I still do fencing! This year is my 10th year with my club :D ! My fencing club is a dry club, so we do some traditional style stuff and occasional collabs with HEMA groups in addition to the electric categories. I've done all weapons and I favor foil BUT two weapon is my specialty :D I love my dagger <3

[cant-think-of-anything]

Pirate AU (Part Four)

TW: Violence

Cordelia sat on the rails, allowing her legs to dangle over the calm water. She enjoyed going out with her newfound acquaintances, but those stuffy dresses suffocated her. She tipped her head back, enjoying the breeze that the sea always brought when a sudden voice nearly made her topple off the ship. 

“Cordelia?” 

Lucie Herondale was standing behind her, staring openly. Cordelia loved that Lucie knew her name now, but all she could currently feel was the flush creeping up her face. She hoped her skin would hide it. Alastair stood behind her, clearly trying to cover up his smile. 

 “You didn’t tell me she was going to be here,” she muttered, pulling her coat tighter around her. 

“Well if you trust her so much-” he broke off with a laugh, glancing at her upfronted expression. “Less than a week Cordelia! How does one manage to blow our cover that quickly?” 

“Not my fault,” She grumbled, face heating up. 

They had made plans to meet up, she just hadn’t expected it to be here, when she was dressed like this. Her only comfort was that Alastair was wearing something identical, though he looked far more comfortable than she did. She ought to find someone that made her brother embarrassed the way Lucie did her. 

“Eugenia?” Cordelia asked, purposefully letting her eyes stay on the sky. 

“She’s with her family. I met up with her earlier.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. I will be going to the city, to map the area out.” 

“Map? What for?” Lucie asked.

Cordelia’s guilt gnawed away at her. It was Lucie’s family they were planning to steal from after all. She knew the Herondale’s had huge amounts of money, they certainly wouldn’t be impacted that greatly, but she didn’t want Lucie to think she was using her. 

“Dinner of course,” Alastair said, his voice an intent but his words sarcastic. 

He glanced at the carriage near the trees and sighed deeply before disappearing down the ladder. Cordelia knew what he really was out to do of course. When night fell Alastair would observe the bank that Mr. Herondale’s money was kept and find a way to get in without being caught. Just the night before Alastair had taken their mother to a hospital under a fake name. It was part of the reason they need money so quickly. She finally looked at Lucie.

“Why are you here?” 

Lucie’s face reddened. “I can go if you wish, I just wanted to see,” she gestured wildly around them. “All of this.” 

“Don’t go,” Cordelia said quickly, hopping off the railing to come sit next to her. 

Lucie reached out and touched the thin material of her billowy white sleeves, her eyes widening when they fell to wear Cortana rested. Cordelia tugged the sword free of its sheath and placed it in front of her, a sign of great trust. She watched as Lucie gently ran her fingers over the words engraved in metal. 

“I can’t believe you live on a ship,” she whispered, her eyes almost fervent as she looked around her. “I mean I didn’t think you were lying but still.” 

Then she straightened suddenly. “I have to get back to the institute before night comes.” The words were deeply mournful, as if walking off this ship would make everything less real. 

Cordelia smiled and took her hand. “I’ll come with you.” 

~~~

Alastair hated London. The streets, he thought, were absolutely filthy. Repulsive even. His only saving grace was he was a few stories above the cobblestone sidewalk. His dark coat was buttoned to hide the bright white of his shirt and he had picked a pair of boots where the silver had mostly dulled. The problem with clothes that were practical for the sea was that they were very impractical for everything else. He still preferred them to suits. 

The bank was further from the institute than he would have expected, meaning it was also in one of the quieter areas of the town. A shadowy figure on the street snapped him from his thoughts. He checked his pocket watch and logged the time. Night had fallen and the sky had fully darkened. He squinted and caught a flash of light brown hair. What fool, he thought, drawing a field telescope from his pocket, walked around at this hour without so much as a hat?

As it turned out, those were the least of his worries. Yet another figure came down the street. He wasn’t too concerned until the shorter of the two whipped a long narrow blade. Alastair stiffened, recognizing the weapon as a rapier immediately. But that hardly made sense unless…

Alastair drew a dagger out and unbuttoned his jacket before digging the sharp edge into the bricks lightly enough for it to slide and pushed off the windowsill.

~~~

Thomas’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He was searching for anything suspicious that connected back to Barbra but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around this. A girl, quite petite in size, was standing in front of him with a blade pointed at his chest. 

The figure was completely covered, he couldn’t see any defining features that would help him place her. He jerked back, instincts taking over. He’d been looking for something suspicious, people armed with swords roaming London certainly qualified. The rational part of his mind reminded him that the killer used poison not...a pirate sword? 

Suddenly she lunged, sweeping her sword out. Thomas caught her arm before she made contact, a flash of white blond hair under the hood of the person’s jacket visible. Ripping out of his grasp somehow, she pulled back as if she were about to run but was cut off by a person dropping off the building in front of them.

This one also wore a hood, but they didn’t have anything covering their clothes. A loose white shirt that tightened at the wrist, a crushed velvet vest, black breeches, and gold buckled boots that all combined to make quite a striking outfit. They straightened, hands tightened around two golden daggers. The blonde one tilted their head and then struck out. The two of them parried and lunged which should have left Thomas to feel quite awkward. Or at least he would have if he wasn’t staring. The silver haired figure whipped back from the fight suddenly, hissed something at their opponent and took off, her black cloak blending her into the night. 

That wasn’t why Thomas was staring though. The man’s hood had fallen back, revealing what Thomas had to believe was one of the most beautifully crafted faces ever made. Then the other boy’s lips twisted into a scowl, his dark eyebrows pushing together as he regarded Thomas. An unpleasant expression on a very pleasant face. 

“Bloody hell,” He murmured to himself before tipping his head back to look at him. “Thomas Lightwood?”

Thomas stiffened, the reality of what had happened finally sinking in. Somewhat. “How do you know who I am?” He demanded. “And what in Lord’s name was that? Who were you fighting just now?”

The man groaned and rubbed his head. “I’m going to torment you forever for this Eugenia.” 

Before Thomas could question him further he cut him off. “Yes, yes I know. I suppose we’ll just add you to the list of people who know everything about us they shouldn’t?”

~~~

Lucie sat with her legs crossed in the “Sanctuary”, the name her father gave to the large room that housed a fountain along with a few murals. Cordelia was beside her, red hair turned to flames from the fireplace, her dark eyes deep with excitement as she recounted a story.

Lucie adored fiction, piled off started novels scattering her room, but there was a different sort of feeling that came with a story that she knew was true. What Cordelia was speaking about was a train robbery she and Alastair had done a few months prior to coming to London. As she put it “Those stuffy nobles hardly needed the money,” before casting an apologetic look at Lucie.

Lucie found she didn’t mind. Cordelia laughed a little as she spoke and the small noise seemed to drown out every other thought in Lucie’s mind. She hoped Cordelia would think the red on her face was because of the fire. 

A sharp knock on the Sanctuary door startled her out of dreamy haze. Lucie frowned, glancing at the door, shouting for them to enter but no one did. Cordelia tensed, her body straightening as her fingers wrapped around Cortana. Somehow the room felt much colder than it did a moment before. 

“Lucie-” 

The sconces lighting the wall suddenly flickered out, the fireplace went dark as if it had somehow doused itself. The room plunged into near darkness, the only light filtered from the windows lining the wall. She felt Cordelia’s hand wrap around her shoulder tugging her closer to the moonlit squares on the floor.

Lucie started to speak, turning around- and then cried out, scrambling back. Cordelia wasn’t the one who had touched her. As miserable-looking as she remembered, stained dresses and faded hats stood Tatiana Blackthorn. 

“Lucie,” Tatiana murmured, her voice dropping into a horrid, gravelly whisper. “How you’ve grown.” 

She was unable to prevent the shiver that ran up her spine. “I don’t understand. You left after-”  

Tatiana scowled viciously when her voice broke. “You don’t get to mourn my son, not when this was your family’s doing.”

Lucie stepped further away, backing up into another body. She stifled a yell, swinging her arm out. Cordelia’s callused fingers wrapped around her wrist. “I’m here.” 

“That won’t do you much good Carstairs girl. I hadn’t expected the two people I was searching for to be this... closely acquainted,” she said, sneering as she looked at their locked hands, “but I suppose that makes things easier for me doesn’t it?” 

She felt something cold press into her hand, glancing down to see a dagger. She turned, but Cordelia was standing in front of Tatiana now, her beautiful golden sword gripped in her hands. And then she attacked, bringing Cortana down in a large golden arc. Tatiana dodged, her hideous face twisted into a crude grin. Lucie heard the word “foolish” before Tatiana drew her own blade and slammed it into Cordelia. 

~~~

Cordelia felt as if she had been punched in the arm- at first. Then it burned. She had spilled some of her mothers boiling hot tea on her a few months ago when a rather unexpected wave crept up on them but this felt as if someone had set small fires to each of her nerves. Cortana clattered to the ground, but she stayed standing, her arm clutched to her chest. She refused to fall. 

Her ears were ringing but she could still hear Tatiana’s twisted laughter, and a few moments later she could see Lucie creeping up behind her, dagger in hand. Before she could cry out, stop Lucie from walking to what would certainly be her death, Lucie plunged the dagger into Tatiana’s shoulder. 

The repulsive woman shrieked, more from surprise than pain she was sure. Lucie, wide eyed, moved away, her chest rising and falling fast. Cordelia tried to reach out to her but a blinding pain made her drop down to her knees. Lucie knelt next to her, pulling her up onto the chair, murmuring something, her head swiveling between Cordelia and Tatiana with panic in her eyes.

“You little wretch,” Tatiana spat, staggering to her feet and stumbling closer to Lucie as if she were drunk. “I ought to do with you what I did to the worthless twat you called your cousin.”

Lucie’s face twisted in outrage, but before she could lunge forward,  Tatiana pulled a dagger from her dress and smashed it into the glass window. Without hesitation she leapt down when it broke, but there was never any noise of impact. But by that point Cordelia’s ears were already ringing too loudly. 

And that was all Cordelia remembered before blacking out completely. 

~~~

Apparently if you get stabbed in the chest and are bleeding out your head will feel very large. Like really, really big.

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno and @barbra-lightwood

[quickspinner]

Damsel in Distress for Hire

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint challenge ages ago, but life happened and I never got it edited and cleaned up. Now I have, so here it is! I used the @mlweeklyprompts prompt Bard. 

Luka reined in Sass before the gelding could clear the shadows of the trees, and eyed the keep tower with some satisfaction. It stood alone on a hill, with ground cleared around it and a wall around the courtyard, and only a single tower rising out of the fortifications. It looked like their information had been good, then. Their opponent didn’t have a large force, hence their underhanded approach. They were depending on the seclusion of this place to keep them safe, and not strength of arms. That made him breathe a sigh of relief. He of all people knew how much harm misinformation could do, and though he had done everything in his power to be sure of his information, there always was that worry in the back of his mind. 

Luka urged Sass forward at a walk. 

“Hail and well met!” he called cheerfully, waving. “I am but a single traveler, of no threat to you!” He dismounted from Sass and spread his arms wide, hands far from the rapier hanging at his side. The guards exchanged a look, but didn’t move. 

“I am a minstrel on my way from the capital to cities in the south,” Luka said, with a little bow that still kept his hands well clear of his weapon. “I’ve been travelling all night to get through these woods, and as I’ve stumbled on you here, I was hoping I could perhaps share your fire and the protection your company would afford me from the local dregs so that I may take a short rest in peace? I have some goods of my own that are better shared, if you would be so kind to allow me to sup with you.” He leaned over and reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a large bottle that glinted appealingly in the sunlight.

The guardsmen exchanged grins with each other, and invited him at once to come and share their watch, on the condition that he give them all the news he had and play a little for their entertainment. 

“Shall I not be detaining you from your duties?” Luka asked, glancing up at the Keep as he tethered Sass. “I’ve no wish to get you in trouble, nor be chased away for causing undue distraction.” He winked at the guards, who chuckled. 

“It’s light duty today,” one of them said easily, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Any force large enough to breach it will be seen from the tower long before we spy it from here, and nothing here to tempt anyone except a fine lady who barely even had any baggage. Come and give us the news!” 

It was amazing, Luka reflected to himself as he sat down, opening the bottle and pouring generous measures into the cups they they held out for him, what you could get away with when you carried a lute and some good wine.

“Aye, she was a nice one to look at though,” the second guard observed with a sigh. “I was on duty when they escorted her in this morning. A highborn lady, that, worth her weight I’m sure. Not that the higher ups tell us much.” His companion elbowed him and gave him a dark look, before turning back to waggle bushy eyebrows at Luka. 

“Ye seen many pretty ladies?” he asked, and a smile twitched at Luka’s mouth at the obvious attempt to deflect the conversation. “Bet ye have, a court songbird like you.” 

“Oh, many,” Luka agreed, hiding his distaste at the epithet. Court songbird, indeed. “Duchesses and princesses and high court ladies of every kind, but there is only one lady that holds my heart, no matter how much my eyes may wander.” He winked and the two men guffawed. Luka disguised a roll of his eyes with another deep drink from his cup. He’d been around this type enough to know what kind of humor they enjoyed. Luka turned his eyes up in the direction of the keep, hiding his scrutiny behind a dreamy expression. 

“My lady is as lovely as any princess I’ve ever seen,” Luka continued. “Clumsy, sometimes, but all the more joy in catching her, ey?” Another round of laughter. “She has beautiful dark hair, and the sweetest, most beguiling eyes you’ve ever seen, and her mouth was carved by the gods.” He sighed longingly. “And I’ve been apart from her much too long. I’m on my way back to her now, and I appreciate you sharing your fire with a lonely minstrel.” 

“There, there,” the taller man said, not without genuine sympathy, and patted Luka’s shoulder roughly. “Ye’ll be with her again soon, no doubt.” 

Luka looked toward the Keep gates and smiled as shouts began to rise in the courtyard. “I do believe you’re right,” he said, finishing the last of his cup. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen, but my lady awaits. I leave you this medicinal powder and my sincerest apologies for the headache you’re going to have in the mornings.” 

He set a small pouch on the ground, where it would be in plain sight of the men who had just slumped to the ground, unconscious. 

Luka tsked as he picked up their empty cups and examined the residue at the bottom. “More than enough to keep them out most of the day,” he murmured with satisfaction. He leaned back against his pack and waited.

Eventually, the heavy keep doors swung open, and a petite figure in a lovely velvet red dress came striding out. Luka couldn’t help his smile, or the sigh of relief and longing that passed his lips. 

She caught sight of him and scowled, completely ignoring the passed out guards that lay on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. 

“Well met, to you as well, Marinette,” Luka laughed. His roguish smile made a mockery of his courtly bow. 

“Why are you here?” she asked again, crossing her arms. “You were supposed to wait in the capital.”

“I am no court bard, to find inspiration in perfume and flattery and empty love affairs,” Luka sniffed affectedly. “I am a seeker of adventure, and I follow my heart.”

“You dog my heels,” Marinette accused, reaching down to pull out the hidden ribbon she had worked into her gown. The dress split on the sides, and Marinette straightened, rolling the ribbon carefully around her fingers even as she glared at him. “Admit it.”

“Admit that you have my heart? Gladly.” Luka swept a bow, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Don’t flatter me,” she snorted. “You’re not any good at it.” 

“Shall I compliment you instead?” Luka asked pointedly, and Marinette blushed, looking away. His compliments were always far worse than his flattery, because he meant them. 

“Don’t change the subject. You were worried about me,” she accused, waving a dagger like an admonitionary finger. “I can handle myself.” 

“You can handle yourself, and me as well,” Luka grinned, and then softened his tone, dropping his courtly pretense. “But I’m always worried about you. That proves nothing except that I care about you.” He held up a furled parchment between them. “However, this is actually why I’m here. I also bring Lady Kagami’s thanks and her appreciation for your very convincing performance of a helpless highborn princess being carried off, although she feels it wasn’t a very accurate imitation of her.” 

Marinette snorted. “Kagami could have easily handled these idiots herself if her mother wasn’t such a stick in the mud. It probably would have been more entertaining for everyone if they had managed to kidnap her.” She sheathed her dagger and took the parchment, unrolling it as she added, “I hope she sent her payment as well as her thanks.” Her lips pursed as she read, and then pushed out in a pout as she looked up at him. “Okay. That’s a good reason.” 

“No point in riding all the way back just to traverse the exact same route again,” Luka agreed. “And since I was coming all this way, why not meet you at the door? I’ve stashed our supplies in a nice little campsite far enough away from this mess,” he gestured at the tower. “We can spend the night and set out in the morning.”

“We?” Marinette asked, eyebrows raising. Luka shrugged.

“I’ve no mind to let you get that far away from me for that long,” he told her, only half joking. “I’m sure there’s a noble house somewhere in the city looking for entertainment, and if not—” Luka shrugged. “Then there’s certain to be a tavern."

Marinette grimaced. “I don’t like it when you play taverns,” she muttered. “You’re far too good for that.”

“We take the pay where it comes,” Luka reminded her, plucking the parchment from her hand and tucking it back in his saddlebag.

“It doesn’t have to come with tavern wenches hanging all over you,” Marinette complained. 

Luka barked a laugh. “The noble ladies are just as bad, only more subtle,” he chuckled, mounting his horse. He extended a hand down to Marinette. “Shall we? I’m sure Tikki’s getting hungry.”  

Marinette looked up at his tall gelding and sighed. “I can get up myself,” she muttered, but she let Luka grip her wrist to give her a little extra boost. She landed across Sass on her belly with a small grunt, and then scrambled into place behind Luka. She could see the curve of his smile just before he faced forward. 

“I’m glad you’re coming with me,” she murmured into his shoulder blades. “And I’ll gut anyone who touches you.”

“My thanks, my gallant lady protector,” Luka said, patting the hands clasped around his waist. “I need fear nothing as long as you are with me, except the hour of parting.”

Marinette huffed, her breath tickling his neck. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Luka looked over his shoulder and winked. “If my heart grew much fonder of you, you would never be rid of me.” 

Marinette was silent for a moment, and then said, “Maybe I don’t want to be.” She said it very quietly, and held her breath after. Luka’s big hand covered hers again, his thumb caressing the back.

“Then maybe you should say yes the next time I propose,” came the teasing answer, and Marinette’s mouth dropped in outrage. 

“You propose every time we pass a church!” she scoffed. 

“Yes,” Luka agreed shamelessly. “How many churches do you think there are between here and the Jewel of the Southern Wastes ?” 

“Not enough to convince me to marry you,” Marinette shot back. “I like the way things are.” 

"As do I," Luka chuckled.

Marinette sniffed. "I knew you weren't serious."

"Of course I am. I will wed you the moment you say the word. But if you are content, then so am I."

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Marinette huffed. 

“There, there,” Luka laughed, patting her hand before putting his own back on the reins. “We’ve a long way to go to get there, and through some pretty sketchy territory. Maybe if you’re really lucky, we’ll get robbed.”

“You think?” Marinette perked up. “Bandits?”

“Possibly even ruffians ,” Luka teased, and laughed when she smacked his shoulder. 

“Ruffians are always broke,” Marinette complained. “I want bandits. I’m going to have to buy new dresses when we get there, I can’t wear dresses from the Northern court in the South. I’d look ridiculous.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Luka, what did you do with my dresses? You didn’t pack them yourself, did you? They’re much too delicate—”

“I had them professionally packed and sealed and sent to Lady Alya for safekeeping,” Luka reassured her. “I would never dare let harm come to your wardrobe.” 

Marinette slumped in relief. “Oh, good.” After a moment she added, “Thank you.”

Luka lifted one of her hands from his waist and kissed the palm softly. 

[wannabeauthorclive]

[Image ID: Dark blue banner of the ocean with four pirate ships saying “Over Land and Sea” with “Camp NaNo WIP Update” underneath. End ID]

I have been really bad at giving updates about how nano is going for me. I said I would do one of these every Sunday, that failed. I’m only doing this one because I finished!! I did it! I hit my goal!!

Project — Over Land and Sea

End Goal — 30,000 words

Daily Goal — 1,000 words

Total written — 30,162 words

Overall Notes — I’m absolutely loving this project and how it’s coming along! It has been difficult juggling all my characters, by it’s a struggle I am willing to do. I also made Desmond a protag (along with Black and Silver) cause I love him too much not to, and it fits the story. I was able to reach my daily goal almost every day and I’m really proud of that! Some days were definitely harder than others, but that’s ok, it’s all part of the journey. I’m changing a lot from my initial outline so I’m glad I kept it in a way that I could change it if I wanted. 

Thank you every single one of you -- I don’t think I could have made it this far without you. You’re all wonderful friends and are so so supportive and I love you! Thank you!

~~~ Four of my favorite scenes under the cut! ~~~

Desmond’s POV

He looks over at Captain Black, still a good fifty feet away, and sends her a wicked, wicked smile. For a split second, he could see the panic in her eyes before it’s gone again, wiped away and leaving the Captain Black everyone knows and either hates or loves. She shoots him a wicked grin of her own and his smile falters before returning full force. This will be fun.

He would go and greet her halfway, but alas, he must stay in-between the crew and the ship. She walks right up behind her crew and moves to stand in front of them defensibly. Her posture never sways and her face never softens as she stares at Desmond. Part of him thinks she’s staring into his soul, which is impossible. Impossible.

“We haven’t gotten the chance to properly introduce ourselves.” Desmond starts, holding out his hand. Captain Black doesn’t take it, doesn’t even glance at it. He withdraws his hand, nodding in acceptance of the refusal. “I am Desmond Ponsa.”

Captain Black’s crew’s eyes go even wider while Captain Black herself just snarls. “I know exactly who you are, Ponsa.”

Silver Sterling’s POV 

The newspaper. That’s how she found out about Black in the first place, no letters from her or Desmond, and certainly no espionage agent. Could the press be able to track pirate better than a chase could? Someone who has seen the Queen of the Seas lately would sure to report it for good money, and people pay good money for information. But if she tracked Viras’s press, she’d have to catch Captain Black before she moved on. Would Silver be fast enough?

She straightens in the tub, her relaxed posture fully gone. Maybe if she was already moving, maybe if she could find where the Captain would probably stop for supplies. It’d be a wild goose chase, trying to find a pirate. It’s a wild goose chase trying to find someone who has roots, but a pirate? It’s nearly impossible.

That’s what she loves doing, though. The impossible. Proving people were wrong to say she couldn’t do something. That’s what she has been told her whole life. “You can’t do that.” “Only men are able to do that.” “Berian women don’t do that, it doesn’t fit with society.”

And every single one of those things people told her she couldn’t do, she did. That’s one reason why she loved her sister, she didn’t even ask if she could do something or not. She just did them and by the time people could tell her she couldn’t do that, she had already gone and done it.

“The impossible is only impossible to those who are afraid.” Her sisters voice whispers in her ear. That was her motto, said before every risky thing they did. And the words solidified Silver’s idea further.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: mental health problems, serious anxiety)

“No, no, no. No.” Black repeats, her voice quavering but leaving no room for argument. Leaving the wheel, not seeing her crew, not watching for the National Guard, not commanding her ship would be sure to send her into a panic attack. If her anxiety is getting to hard for her to captain her ship properly, she shouldn’t be here at all.

But whatever happens, she’s not gonna let her anxiety and memory blackouts take control over her and dictate wether she is capable of captaining her ship. She’s gonna find a way to put an end to all of it before it gets to that point. Black won’t risk the safety of her crew but she won’t give up being captain unless she is fully incapable. And that’s not gonna be any time soon.

“Black!” Black jerks out of her stupor. “Black, god, you can’t do that.” Ironside whispers, relief and worry and scared blanketing her tone. “You’re here one moment and not the next and something has to change. We can’t be in battle and that happening.” She says forcefully.

This is why Black loves Ironside, she doesn’t step around anything. Straight to the point. Black doesn’t respond, she just keeps staring out over the sea. Waiting for the National Guard give a surprise attack on this bright and cloud-free, sunny day.

Ironside sighs. Her friend’s mind is breaking. It has been for a long while, this is the first time any of them noticed it though. She glances behind her at the faces of the crew, gathered around to see if their captain, friend, and family is alright. A spike of guilt hits her, she should have seen it. But none of them did and now, now Black is paying the price.

It’s like Black’s sanity is slipping out of her fingers like sand and it’s so hard to watch. So, so hard. But she has to, it may be the only way she can help.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: violence, death)

A quick second is all it takes for Black to notice the pistol aimed at Lakoma’s head. A quick second for Black to realize that blood is gonna be split. Not their blood, not if Black can help it. And by God, she can help it. She isn’t losing anyone today. A borderline wicked smile replaces her grin and with a flick of a wrist, two daggers are in her hands.

She sees the panic in her crew’s eyes as the entire Viras Treasury surrounds them. Too many people. They’ve never fought this many before. “Keep going!” She screams at them. She has. She’s fought this many people.

Another flick of the wrist and the dagger is flying through the air. It finds its target in the belly of  the same guard with his pistol aimed at Lakoma and another dagger is flying. Another dagger, another guard down.

Tons of weapons can be hidden among the folds of her dress and Black is ever grateful for her weapons. Two more daggers come out, two more daggers hit their mark. One in a throat, one in an eye.

Out of the corner of her eye, Braveheart is beating down one after another soldier, Lakoma is throwing daggers faster than Black can see while gun shots ring out from Tonya.

If only Captain Black had her Cutlass sword, this would all be much easier. She is unstoppable with her sword, no one can get out of her way. But alas, her sword is a size too big to fit in her dress.

A moment in her head and a guard was able to get too close. He throws his weight into his rapier to slice her — obviously not well trained, rapiers are stabbing weapons, not slashing ones — and she quickly ducks under him. With a swift kick to the balls, his rapier is now hers and she demonstrates how you really use a rapier. A stab though the gut. Or heart, but she goes at the gut. The pain lasts longer.

Taglist: @baguettethebooklover @a-completely-normal-writer @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @hysteriwah @tiredlittleoldme @the-writing-avocado @vellichor-virgo @radiomacbeth @wildwrites @crowewritesstuff @crystallized-ink​ @strangerays​ @47crayons @ladywithalamp (ask to be +/-)

[spoiler1001]

This is how it ended. A bloody battle. No Trent. No war. Just Caleb, surrounded by the faces of his loved ones.

Caleb almost laughed bitterly. Yes, he was surrounded by loved ones on both sides of this. If this were astrid or Eodwulf it would be kinder.

As is, the city that deserted their own reckoning rose from the blood of the Tomb Takers. Every slash that drew their blood dropped onto the floor. The icy stone was slick and everyone's boots gained a new reddish mark painting the bottom of their shoes. Caleb's hair slipped out of his tie. It passed his shoulders now. Ikithon would have a shit fit if he saw it. Fuck Ikithon.

The Tomb Takers fell suspiciously easily. They seemed almost willing to do so. Of course they were. They trusted this city. These philosophers. They really were the Assembly of their time. They used and sucked the free will out of their pupils all the same. Only Lucien stood out of all of them left. 

There was a silence that filled the room. The Tomtakers laid towards the center of the room. The Mighty Nein stood around the border of it. Caleb was separated from the others with rocks blocking the view and the others being blocked in by falling rocks. Lucien kept his eyes on Caleb. Caleb raised his hand to summon a spell, for it to sizzle at his fingertips and turn to smoke. Lucien smiled, cocking his head to the side. His tail swished like a cat sizing up his prey. That's all he was to Lucien. Someone that was beneath him, but still a person that he wanted to deal with personally. Caleb blinked weakly at Lucien.

"You are mine!" Lucien drew his rapier. 

"I've always been."  Caleb whispered.

Lucien slashed at Caleb, his expression unreadable. He was cold, numbed. The neutral expression. Caleb wondered if that's what he looked like when he killed his parents.

"You clever asshole. You undermined me at every opportunity. You showed off and condescended towards me. I actually liked you." Lucien chuckled. His footsteps were uneven and he was covered in blood and bruises. Blood dripped from the corner off his mouth. It was the mirror image of when Molly confronted Lorenzo. Lucien swiped at Caleb but slid, missing him. Caleb pitied Lucien, he realized. 

Caleb was staring at an opportunity to meet the raven queen. So was Lucien, really. But Caleb was still himself. This wasn't Lucien anymore. Molly was gone, and he took humility with him.

Lucien hissed and grabbed the back of Caleb's head. They were centimeters apart from each other. Caleb looked Lucien in the eye. 

"You could have been something with us." Lucien hissed.

"I'm happy being myself." Caleb just smiled. 

Lucien hissed, dropping his rapier. He pulled out a dagger, the coloring that brought to mind the carnival glass. The tip was jagged and some places were dulled. There was a hook placed around the handle and Lucien gripped it. Lucien went pale but still was looking at him with a neutral face. Caleb kept the eye contact through the pain of a blade going between his ribs. 

"May you find your peace." Caleb just rasped out, coughing. He went limp, never closing his eyes. Before nothing overtook him, he saw Lucien's mask slip, with tears building in his eyes. Lucien pulled away, falling backwards as Caleb crumbled.

The city became louder and louder. All of the members of the Mighty Nein could hear it, not Just Beau. The snow was melting and the group as a whole could now see the whole room. Caduceus saw it first. Then Fjord. Jester yelled. Veth froze. The city was forming to the side of their gaze. The group was focused on the still form of Caleb Widogast. His blue eyes were open, but he looked at nothing. Veth rushed over. Blood soaked into her coat and she grabbed his head.

"He's still warm." She whispered. Hot tears fell down her cheeks despite the cold. "We can fix this!" Veth looked at the clerics. "You can fix him!" Jester nodded but she was in shock. 

"T-the Traveler can help what about-" Jester knelt down and looked at Caleb. 

"Don't worry about it. Focus on Caleb." Artagon himself seemed to form besides Jester. He looked over his shoulder and flashes of white lights blinked behind them. Caduceus looked at what was happening. 

The woman from the Traveler-con and a male of elven descent with a fungus on the side of his face  were slashing at the malleable blood stone it seemed to be breaking at the slightest touch.

Artagon had Jester's bag and handed her a diamond.

Jester took a deep breath, steadying herself. She whispered softly and the diamond shattered. The shattered pieces turned golden hot and sunk into Caleb. 

Nothing happened. There was no breath. No blinking. He was still gone. Veth screamed.

"He just needs some more convincing." The elven man whispered. Artagon nodded.

"And what do you suggest?" Artagon asked.

"Give him a reason to come back. Give him…" The elven man trailed off, listening. "Give him redemption. There are many sins he seems to regret and now...it looks like you may get two friends out of this." 

"Isn't the Raven Queen against-" Fjord spoke up.

"Fate is Malleable. You will have to figure it out." The man smiled and went back to slashing the stone. The divine magic seemed to be more efficient as the Somnoven were sliced away. Jester pulled out another diamond. She did the same spell but whispered something into his ear.  Nothing. 

"We all need to do this. Tell him something that would convince him to come back." Jester sighed.

Veth whispered something into Caleb's temple. Caduceus hesitated. Then he took some of the moss on his armor and smeared it over his chest in the shape of a heart. Fjord took a second and grabbed Caleb's hand. The room got hotter and hotter until the ice started to crack. The city finally shattered in one last scream. Beau jerked and grabbed her hand. The red eyes were fading but it was hot, searing against the scar from the acid. It was over. The eye was gone. Beau knelt down and hugged Caleb. Yasha ripped off a piece of her cloth and tied his hair back.

A moment passed. Then two. Caleb was breathing, and his eyes flickered closed. 

"One more person has to say something, but he does have a tether in this realm." The elven man nodded before fading into the shadows. The avatar of the Moonweaver stepped up to the group. "You will not be alone in this." She whispered, before fading into a blinding light. 

Jester finally looked over to Lucien. His eyes were still open, head tilted to look Caleb in the eyes. He was pale, bruises locked into his skin and tears streaked out from the corner of his eyes. His chest was still but even given everything, it was obvious that Lucien was dead.

"Caduceus, i want to go home. The hotel where my mother works will be sufficient for this but I want out of here." Jester looked up at Caduceus, who nodded and grabbed as many as he could to teleport to his lighthouse. Jester grabbed the rest and teleported to the hotel. 

-----------

Marion Lavorre was welcoming, despite less than happy circumstances. She let Caleb have the best room. Caleb slept for a long time. A week passes as Artagon and Jester, with a diamond slowly disintegrating. The two of them built Molly back piece by piece. They had to carve out the Molly part of the soul.it was jagged, fragile so they regrettably had to use Lucien's to stabilize it. The eyes of nine were gone, showing that Molly had tried to cover the eyes with blue ink, but it never worked. It was there now. 

Molly opened his eyes. He was shaking and there was one word that he shouted when he woke up. 

"Run!" Molly shouted at the tip of his tongue. 

Jester sat back and was quiet. The weight in her chest was heavy as Molly looked around. Molly finally looked over to Jester and took a deep breath. 

"You're alive!" Molly smiled. Jester just nodded. 

"A lot happened after you died. But Molly, something happened." Jester sighed. 

"Who's hurt?" Molly nodded and grabbed her hand. Jester just grabbed him and pulled him towards the room. Yasha was there keeping watch. 

Jester pulled away. "I'll tell Essek." 

She left in a hurry. 

Yasha looked at Molly. She was frozen. Her jaw was open and she just stared. Molly looked at her. "I'm back Yasha." 

"Molly?" She asked. Molly just nodded. 

Yasha pulled Molly into a bone crushing hug. She was crying. Molly was crying. He looked over to the bed and oh. 

Caleb laid in the bed, under sheets made of warm materials. 

Memories forced its way into his mind. Molly gasped as the memory of his familiar blade slicing into Caleb's chest. Molly collapsed in Yasha's arms. Tears filled his eyes as the realization of this moment. There was no context in his mind. There was just the image of this moment and Caleb wishing him peace. 

Molly wrapped his tail around his own leg. 

"It's ok. It's going to be ok." Yasha promised. Molly slipped away and stumbled his way to Caleb's bedside. He was so pale…

Molly cupped Caleb's cheek. He was warm, there was a pulse and he was breathing. He just wasn't lively. Molly let tears fall.

"I shouldn't be the thing that extinguishes you. You're so bright, so powerful. There should be time for everything later." Molly whispered and placed a kiss on Caleb's forehead. 

Caleb took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Is this peace?" 

Molly looked at him and held his breath. 

"Molly…?" Caleb's eyebrows bunched up. 

Molly just nodded. "I'm here." 

The bedroom door opened and Jester walked in with a drow elf. The elf rushed to Caleb's side and Molly backed away. Caleb reached for him but Molly was out of reach. The rest of the group, barr Fjord, jumped into the room. They all stormed the bed to see Caleb slowly wake up. 

Molly walked out of the room. Fjord was standing in the hallway. The weapons Molly could vaguely feel connected to and the dagger that Molly had full memories of were hanging off of Fjord's belt. Molly could understand that. He went back to the room Jester woke him up in. The bed was made and Molly laid down to try to rest.

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

Molly was deep in sleep when a knock on his door was heard. He was groggy but was awakened by it enough to open the door. Caleb was face to face with Molly, inches apart.

"You left." Caleb said simply. There was no anger or hurt. This was just a fact. Molly couldn't look Caleb in the eye. "I wanted you there."

"I didn't want to crowd you." Molly whispered. 

"Bullshit." Caleb sighed. "I don't blame you for this. I barely blame Lucien. I blame myself for allowing you to die." 

Molly flinched. "You didn't stab me." 

"But I lead the mission." Caleb sighed. Molly was able to get a look at Caleb and Molly noted that Caleb looked good. Better than he remembered. He had pants on, but no shirt, covered by a blanket that Caleb was holding like a cape. Molly took a step back and Caleb stepped through. "I missed you so much." Caleb's voice cracked. "Can I sleep here, so when I wake up, I'll immediately know you're still here." 

Molly just nodded. "I'll stay until you tell me otherwise." 

Caleb finally relaxed and laid on the bed, under the covers and his own makeshift cape, and Molly, with trembling hands, laid in the bed, only to be grabbed and held by Caleb. 

"I love you Mollymauk. I wish I could have told you before." Caleb whispered into Molly's chest. 

Molly wept. "One day I will earn that and will say it back to you." 

[alisonembers]

Cogs and Queens (D&D Eberron Fan Fic) - Week 1 - Now also submitted for royalroad.com

Content Warning: Blood, Course Language, Violence, Intentional misgendering of character from antagonists, represented in a bad light.

Picture used is from: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/1QY6e (If artist requires me to remove the picture, I will do on request. I hope using it as visual stimuli for those who need it is okay.)

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

Cogs and Queens - Part One

Mercury sat at a round table in the Cogs and Queens tavern in the lower city. They taste the air with a parched mouth, having just escaped another firefight with the Sharn Watch.

Riiiiiip. Mercury sighs, holding their left arm with a newly torn bandage. Bastards got me. Two years they’ve been hunting me down, and in all that time, they only just got me. Pathetic.

“Oi! Can I get ya a fuckin’ ale or what? It’s a fuckin taproom, not a restin’ room. Order or leave!” the hobgoblin bartender says.

“Look, I’ll fuckin’ drink anythin’, long as it’s under a silver,” Mercury reaches into their thigh-bag, and places the coin on the table, leaning back. Ya got shot. Good fuckin’ job, Mercury. They pull the bandage tight, wincing.

The hobgoblin walks over holding a tankard of a strange purple mix. “Here’s ya drink,” he slams it on the table, takes the silver coin, and walks off.

Mercury reaches for the bullet on the table that was recently lodged in their arm. A souvenir. How lovely. “So, what’s new in the world? Any new rumors?”

“Yeah, fuckin’ rumors all right. Apparently, some rich head up in the top layers of the city thinks lizardfolk should be slaves and started a lizard camp a day out from the city. True or not, somethin’ strange is happenin’ out there cause my delivery men see guards headed that way all the time.”

“Sounds interesting. Might be worth to fuck over. Free some folk.”

“Yeah, cause you’re such a do-gooder. Don’t lie Merc, you’ve been comin’ ‘ere for the past year, treatin’ my waterhole as a damn safehouse. You pick on people, no matter if they’re good, or if they’re evil. All that matters to you is the fame of being a wanted criminal, and the right to brag in front of others in your field. I know men like you. You all share the same stupidity.”

“Well, good thing I’m not a man.”

“Speakin’ off, what are you anyway? I can’t pin ya for a woman.”

“I’m just me, Hektar. Nothin’ more to it. I’m just Mercury.”

“Sure,” the hobgoblin rubs the glass he’s holding clean, squeaking all the way across the room.

“But seriously, Hek. Thanks for not kickin’ me out. Even if it means I have to pay to be here.”

“Don’t all taprooms require you to pay before you stay? It’s rule number one, Merc.”

“No shit,” Mercury chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Mercury pulls a small green gem out of their pocket, placing it on the table. A few moments go by, and a guitar materializes where the gem once was. They begin plucking the chords. E, G, B, e, B, G, E - E, G, B, e, B, G, E. (guitar tabs)

The door kicks in as six guards storm the tavern. “Is she here!?” the head guard demands, looking at the bartender.

The bartender smirks at them. “This Tavern of mine currently has no female guests. Trust me, I think I’d know.”

Mercury leans back in their chair, continuing to play their song. “So close no matter how far, couldn’t be much more from the heart.”

One of the guards scans the room and pulls on the shoulder of the one beside him. “There’s the girl.”

“Forever trusting who we are, and nothing else matters.”

“Oi!” the guards shout. “Stop playin’ that shit, or we’ll tear your tongue out.”

“Never opened myself this way, life is ours we live it our way.”

The captain walks closer, resting his hand on his rapier. “I said, quiet wench!”

“All these words, I don’t just say… And nothing else matters.” Mercury sighs, taking their hand from the strings and gripping their six-cylinder on their hip. They watch them approach closer.

“Oi! I thought you said you weren’t harborin’ any women in your tavern!” the guard at the bar says.

Mercury giggles to themselves. “He’s not.”

The first guard unsheathes his rapier, the second one going for his sidearm. The four towards the tavern bar begin drawing their weapons, swords, and daggers to prevent Mercury from escaping. None fast enough for Mercury.

Crack. The first bullet left Mercury’s chamber, leaving the man dead.

Crack. The second who’d bear witness to the deaths while he bled.

Crack. No man was as fast to stop the small, beautifully handsome fiend.

Crack. For their hand was quick, their fingers quicker, none could intervene.

As the fifth one takes his shot, Mercury takes a step brave.

Crack. None would be the one who put them at the bottom of a grave.

Crack. The sixth held his throat, and Merc looked into his eyes.

For they knew the poor guardsmen was only taking what jobs would arise.

“From where you’re sittin’, must feel like today was shit luck,” Mercury says, holding the last man dying. “Truth be told, ya took the job knowing what might happen. I’m fairly sure when I go to hell, I’ll see you there.”

Ears ringing, table flying, I’m flying. The wall, it’s no longer there.

Mercury lands in front of the bar, propelled across the room by an explosion. What? Who just. Where’s six. Mercury reaches for their sidearm with their left arm, only they can’t reach it. What. Where’s? No. They look across the room, seeing their left arm blown clean off with their revolver still in grip. Mercury tries to hoist themselves up with the aid of their tail, falling forward onto their knees. I can’t. I’m gonna. No!

A man with a long mustache looks down at Mercury. “What luck. Wasn’t expectin’ to see little pink down here,” he looks across the room, blood reaching from their dismembered arm to themselves. “I guess from now on, they’ll call you little pink mist,” he brushes his mustache smiling. “Take it all, boys! Leave no coin untouched. Scavenge the guards, but leave pinky alone. They’ve had a rough day. We don’t want it to get rougher!” he laughs. “Imagine all the things you can’t do with a missing arm.”

   The world went black.

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

For those who read this, I humbly accept feedback. I also humbly accept being educated on any mistakes I made in representing characters, and how I could do it better.

[sides-of-demigods]

I'll Be Safe In Your Sound Till I Come Back Around

Word Count: 1,684

Warning(s): Manipulation, mind control, toxic relationship, blood, injuries, stab wounds.

Author's Note: Editing is for the weak. The title is taken from Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.

Patton took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of his glove. He wouldn't take them off, not unless he absolutely had to. Most of the time Patton didn't even consider his powers an option. Not even Monsters deserved to feel themselves turn to dust. But he knew that, while he'd look for another option, for Dennis? He'd rip them off in a heartbeat. He never worried he'd need to, but this time he wasn't sure. He had a feeling something was going to happen, something was going to go wrong.

"Patton?"

Patton turned around at the sound of his boyfriend's voice.

"Hey," Patton said, his voice shaking.

"You can do this, Patton," Logan promised. His voice sounded so sure, so confident, that Patton couldn't help feeling it too. "I know what it's like to be loved by you, it is so warm and powerful, just like you. I know that Dennis misses that just as much as you do. You'll get him back."

Patton smiled and pulled Logan down so he could kiss him, slow and sweet with something more bitter... something like an apology. Patton pulled back and let his hand linger on Logan's face. He knew he had tears in his eyes, and he wasn't even trying to hide them. He wasn't ashamed to admit he was scared.

"I have to go now," Patton told him. He turned to look at the others and suddenly he had an armful of black cloth and purple hair clinging to him and Patton laughed wetly. "I'll be fine Virgil. Dee would never hurt me."

"Just...be careful," Virgil muttered.

"Always."

Roman approached next after Virgil had forced himself to pull away from Patton.

"I just hate that we can't go with you," Roman sighed, also pulling the shorter boy into a hug.

"I know," Patton agreed. "But we can't risk Dee reacting badly when he sees you guys."

Patton stepped back. He was wasting time, time he didn't have. He looked around the room again, eyes catching on the faces of the people he loves so so much and would do anything for and smiles again.

"I'll be back," Patton promised. He believed he would, but it was whether or not he'd come back the same that was the question. "I promise."

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

Dennis didn't think he had ever felt the amount of hate and panic he was feeling at the moment. He stared through his own eyes with no control over his body and mind at Remus. He was a prisoner in his own mind with thoughts slamming into him that didn't belong to him, trying to convince him that they did. He just couldn't believe this was happening! He'd loved Remus, and he thought Remus loved him back but this…even he knew this wasn't love.

Dennis couldn't even console himself with the fact that Patton was coming to save him because Remus knew about that! Worse still, Remus had ordered Dennis to kill his brother once he'd arrived. No matter how he screamed and fought and pleaded no one heard him. All that happened was Dennis hearing his own voice agree flatly. He wanted to sob as Remus handed him his own black and yellow rapier, the weapon that had protected him for years, and Dennis watched his gloved hand wrap tightly around the handle.

What was he going to do?

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

Patton had been worried finding Dennis and Remus would be difficult but he found out quickly that they were in the Eris cabin. He probably should have been able to figure that out himself but he was a little frazzled. Gods, he didn't even know what he was going to say. Beg? Plead? He'd tried all that before but it hadn't worked then. Why would it work now?

He paused in his tracks as the Eris cabin came into view and he saw...Remus and Dennis were standing outside of it, looking directly at him. They knew he was coming. How did they know he was coming? Patton ignored Remus and focused entirely on his brother but almost wished he hadn't. The look on his face wasn't just blank, it was empty. Not even guarded like Patton had seen plenty of times before. It wasn't even Dennis.

Patton's hand reached into his pocket and tightened around the small metal object there as Remus said something to Dennis and his little brother began to advance on him, rapier at the ready. Now that, that was just SICK. Remus was forcing Dennis to kill him? What was WRONG with him. Patton couldn't dwell on it because Dennis was only a few feet away. He switched the object into his left hand and grabbed the dagger Thomas had shoved into his hand as he left.

Dennis swung before Patton could even open his mouth and Patton just barely managed to dodge out of the way, the blade putting a small rip in his camp shirt. This wasn't good. Dennis was fast, much faster than Patton, and Patton wasn't a skilled fighter with a blade to begin with.

"Dennis listen to me," Patton begged, taking a step back for each step Dennis took forward. "I know you, alright? I know you think I don't, not anymore. And I know you hate me, that you think I betrayed you and abandoned you when you needed me most and you have every right to think that because I did."

Dennis charged forward and Patton ducked under his sword and rolled to the side so he had a long stretch of grass behind him.

"I'm sorry. I have never regretted anything more than I do that. I was wrong but I NEVER meant to hurt. I love you Dee-Dee, I could never hurt you."

Patton stopped in his tracks and tossed his dagger to the side. Dennis paused too, looking between Patton and the dagger in confusion, like he couldn't understand why Patton wasn't fighting back. But when he looked back into his eyes Patton saw something flicker there, something behind the blankness, behind the spell. Something that recognized him, something that was hopeful and afraid and fighting, and that gave Patton what he needed to push on.

"And I know you won't hurt me." Patton pulled out the object in his pocket and held it out for Dennis to see. It was the pin Dennis had given Patton when he'd comforted him what felt like forever ago. The two snakes caught Dennis's attention and Patton huffed out a laugh of relief. It was working. It was actually working!

"I know you still love me Dee. You have to remember this. You gave it to me when I was upset. You hugged me, and I knew that meant I still had a chance. And if I still do then you HAVE to come back to me Dee! I swear to you, I will never leave you again as long as you want me there. You're my little brother, I will always love you. So come back. I know you're stronger then this because you are stubborn and hate being told what to do and who to be so FIGHT IT!"

It felt like Gaia herself was holding her breath as Patton watched Dennis freeze mid stride and his rapier fall out of his hand. It rolled across the grass out of Patton's vision but he didn't turn to watch it. He could practically see the war within him, the spell versus Dennis. More than once Patton thought Dennis was losing. Then something amazing happened. Dennis moved and shook his head, looking down at his hands and flexing his fingers. Then he looked up and Patton let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob.

"Patton?" Dennis breathed. There was so much emotion behind just his name and Patton laughed in pure joy.

Dennis sprinted towards him and when they collided, Patton wrapped his arms around the son of Apate like he wasn't ever going to let go. Gods he'd missed his brother. But now he'd gotten him back. Dennis was free, free to be himself and free from Remus and they could finally stop him. Patton was so freaking happy.

Then he knew nothing but pain.

He felt a horrible burning sensation from his stomach and suddenly he couldn't breathe. It hurt so much that when he tried to scream all that came out was a strangled groan. Dennis pulled back and looked at him in confusion before he looked down and his eyes widened in horror.

"PATTON!" He screamed. Huh. That didn't sound like a good scream. He looked down to see the narrow bronze blade of Dennis's rapier jutitng out of his stomach, his orange shirt all ready stained with blood. Well that was probably why.

Patton felt the blade getting pulled back out of him and his entire vision flashed white from pain as he was finally able to scream. When he was back to himself he was on his knees and Dennis wasn't in front of him. He heard someone yelling in anger that he was pretty sure was Dee but he couldn't be sure. Everything sounded distant and muffled, like he had water in his ears. He tentatively pressed his hand against his stomach and it came back coated in blood. Everything hurt, so freaking much, his stomach and back felt like they were on fire. His mouth tasted like metal and when he coughed he saw blood splatter against the green grass. That wasn't good.

Dennis reentered his vision and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a bit so he would look at him. He heard his name a few times and then Dennis screamed out to the side something about someone helping. Patton supposed he did probably need help. He fell forward and Dennis caught him, cradling Patton against him. He moved him so Patton's side was against him and his head was on his little brother's shoulder and Patton couldn't help thinking 'This is nice'.

"PATTON!" He heard Logan cry.

Then he closed his eyes.

[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 8 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Panic Attack, Mild Violence, Suggestive Material, Mild Body Horror

Blake smiled at Star and pat her shoulder a few times before standing up and holding out his elbow for Mesos to take before walking back to his room.

[kaiju-emperor]

d’Artagan (Saber) Character Concept

(d’Artagan servant outfit. Art by @angelicvangaart​ Thank so much for this amazing work! Please go give them your support)

One of the central characters of Alexdre Dumas’s classic ‘The Three Musketeers’. d’Artagan was a young woman, who dreamt of being a musketeer and traveled to Paris. There, she met the titular Three Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. The four would go on many adventures together, and d’artagan would come into her own as a great sword fighter. 

d’Artagan takes the form of a woman in her mid twenties, with flowing locks of brown hair. Her usual attire is the leather armor and cape of her musketeer uniform. She wields a basket hilt rapier, a parrying dagger and flintlock pistol with deadly accuracy.

d’Artagan has an easygoing and ‘rougeish’ personality. She is ‘romantic’ in the classical sense of the word, having a deep sense of honor and manners. Her tongue, and wit are sharp, offering witty quips and jibes in and out of battle. However, she knows when the time for such things is over.

As a servant, d’Artagan is a master of the blade. She was more than likely one of the greatest swordmasters of her era. She strikes with precision, and finesse over brute force. Using diversion, positioning and superior skill to win over her opponents.

(Casual d’Artagan)

Parameters

Strength:C+

Endurance:B

Agility: A

Magic Power:C

Luck A+

Noble Phantasm:A

Skills

Charisma C+:Despite not being a leader, d’artagnan has a decently high charisma stat. Her personality is infectious and she has a way with words.

Riding B+: Like most musketeers d’Artagan was trained in the art of horsemanship. She even has some knowledge about sailing thanks to her travels

Magic Resistance B: Being a saber class servant, d’Artagan is granted a high level of magic resistance. 

Noble Phantasms

Tous Pour Un: Musketeer’s Bond Rank B

A secondary noble phantasm to d’Artagan’s main one. Using this power, she can call on a phantom of one of the other musketeers. They infuse her with power, each one granting a different boon. Calling upon the power of Porthos, her Strength and Endurance stat increase, allowing her to clash with opponents physically stronger than herself. Calling upon Aramis grants her keen vision, and agility. It also summons Aramis’s trusty musket, which is a low ranked noble phantasm in and of itself. Finally, by calling upon Athos, the phantom of Athos will strike alongside d’Artagan, mirroring her moves, or defending her from harm. Allowing her incredible versatility in combat. As well as the ability to stand toe to toe with servants whose skill exceeded normal humans in life.

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A

The full power and form of d’Artagan’s noble phantasm. It is a crystallization of her oath, and friendship with the other musketeers. A representation of their intertwined legend. By speaking the famous oath of the musketeers, d’Artagan creates a reality marble that is an image of the Palace Of Fontainebleau. Inside of the bounds of the reality marble, she summons the full forms of her three companions Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. All three of them are full servants in their own right and their parameters are on par with d’Artagan herself. As long as the reality marble is maintained, the four will fight together to defeat their enemy. It is here that the full power of the musketeers is seen. Within the space of the reality marble, things such as authority and divinity do not matter. All are equal within. Which allows the musketeers to harm divine beings despite not having divine weapons or divinity themselves.  

FGO version

4* Saber

Deck

Passive Skills

Riding Rank B+:Increase Quick performance by 9%

Magic Resistance B: Increases own debuff resistance by 17.5%.

Active Skills

Charisma C+ : Increase attack party attack  for 3 turns. from 8.5 to 17%

Un Pour Tous: Porthos: Increase own attack for 3 turns from 10-20% Apply Debuff Immune for 3 turns

Un Pour Tous:Aramis: Apply evade to self for two attacks. And apply sure hit to self and gain 10-15 crit stars. 

Noble Phantasm

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A, Type:Arts, Anti Unit

Deals 900-1500% damage to a single enemy that ignores defense. Overcharge Increase NP gain for 3 turns from 20-40% (activates first)

Dialogue

Summon

“I have answered your call, I d’Artagan shall be your sword and your shield. Hehe, sorry that was far too formal. Let me try again. I am d’Artagan, Saber class. *leans down to kiss your hand* “Enchante, My Lord/Lady. I hope my companions and I can serve you well.”

Level Up

“ Ah je me sens déjà plus fort!” (Translation:Ah.  I feel stronger already)

Battle Start

En garde!  Prêts? Allez!  (Translation: On guard! Ready! Lets begin!)

Battle Start 2

All For One, And One For All! (Randomly said in French or English)

Attack 1

“Advance! Hah!”

Attack 2

“Attaque au Fer!”

Attack 3

“Doublé!”

Extra Attack

“Parry! Then...thrust!”

Hit By Noble Phantasm

“Gahhh I must...endure!”

Defeat

Ah! Tou...che.

First Skill Used

Transmettre mes amis! (Translation: Onward, my friends!)

Second Skill Used

Porthos! I need your strength!

Third Skill Used

Aramis! Grant me your speed!

Noble Phantasm Selected

“It is time, my friends!”

Noble Phantasm Used

“Let me show you, the strength of our bond, of our oath. The dream of our legend! All For One, And One For All! Athos! Porthos! Aramis! Fight by my side once more!”

My Room Lines

(If you have Jeanne d’Arc Ruler/Archer) “Mon dieu! Is that Jeanne d’Arc?! I was told stories of her as a child. It is such an honor to meet her in the flesh! She is truly as beautiful and radiant as I imagined.”

(If you have Chevalier d’Eon) “A fellow knight of France! It is a pleasure to meet someone who served the country as I did! To think that there would be future knights as lovely and cute as yourself! Hahaha! No need to blush!”

(if you have Marie Antoinette) *quickly bows* “I can tell just from your beauty and countenance that you are of royal blood. A future queen of France you say? So, I was right! I do seem to have a talent for reading resplendent beauties.”

(if you have Edmon Dantes) “That man... He has a dark aura about him. I feel the pain in his eyes. What must he have suffered to have such eyes?”

(if you have Astolfo) “I’ve been spending some time with Astolfo lately. They are quite the character. On the surface they seem quite strange and lack common sense. However, deep within they truly are worthy of being a paladin of the great Charlemagne”

During an Event

“It seems something exciting is happening out there, master. A festival perhaps? Let us go and see.”

Likes

“Things that I like? Hmmm. Wine, roses, books, and poetry. But the thing I love most, are women. Eh? That last one was obvious?”

Dislikes

“Dishonorable types. Backstabbers, traitors and the like. The worst types like that however, are the ones who make women cry.”

About the other musketeers.

“You want to hear about Porthos? Porthos was a boisterous man, always smiling. He had a hearty loud laugh. He was also a bit of a dandy. Always wanting to wear the latest fashions and look his best. I never knew a man who shined his boots more.”

“Aramis was a ladies man, through and through. Despite being highly religious he always seemed to find time for women. *sighs* More than once I caught him knocking boots with the nuns of various churches. But, despite all that, he was a good and stalwart friend, and he always respected when a woman was not interested in him.”

“Athos... Athos was... He was like a father to me. He was the one who taught me how to fight with a blade. I looked up to him, and loved him dearly. But, he was also a haunted man. I often found him drinking away his sorrows. Curse that Lady de Winter...”

Bond 1 “Good day to you my lord/lady. I hope you are doing well. I’m still trying to get used to this modern place. Its a lot to take in.”

Bond 2 “Walking among these halls of heroes, I feel like I’m back at the musketeer barracks again. Just without all the drills, haha!”

Bond 3: “I was not born a noble like the other musketeers. I was a simple farmer’s daughter. But I dreamed of being one despite all that. I remember arriving in Paris, my eyes wide with wonder, and head full of dreams. Ah, sorry, I’m rambling.”

Bond 4:”Hmm? You want to know more about my childhood? Well, there’s not much to tell. I was a farmer’s daughter, as I said. I grew up in the fields of France, milking cows, collecting eggs, milling grain and so on. It was a simple life. But I don’t think it was for me in the end.”

Bond 5(if male mc): “Master, I wish to offer my fealty again. You are my king, and I your loyal musketeer. You are truly a great and kind leader. I could not ask for a better lord to serve.”

Bond 5(if female mc): “Good day, my lady. I hope you’re well. I have something special planned for us today. I’ve arranged a rayshift to the rolling fields of France. A perfect place for a romantic picnic, oui?~ Shall we, my lady? There’s no need to be shy. Take my hand, ma petite fleur~”

Bond CE: “Note From The King”

Effect: “Party Quick, and Arts up by 10% “

“I remember that day. It was many years after my friends and I had drifted apart. I had been recognized for my accomplishments, despite my common birth. I was leading France’s forces against the United Provinces. During the  Siege of Maastricht, I was reading a letter signed with the royal seal. I was to be made into ‘The Marshal Of France’ the highest honor I could ever hope to achieve. I can hear the ringing of the sudden gunshot that followed. The feeling of the musket ball piercing my chest... Blood leaked from lips and I felt my life ebbing.  ‘Athos, Porthos, Aramis, adieu forever....’ “

[ask-the-rose-schnees]

"Little Red"

-mafia godmothers!au snipet #1-

(Warning: Graphic depiction of violence)

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

City of Remnant, Vale district. 9:00 pm. A tall red headed man carrying a cane, followed by a tiny girl with long wavy hair of pink and brown, walking down the darkened streets. Roman Torchwick, the biggest crime boss in all of Vale and his trusty partner and bodyguard Neopolitan. The two had a "business" meeting scheduled for tonight, but said meeting was taking place dangerously close to his biggest rival's territory. The Belladonnas. Therefore, Roman decided it would be wise to give a call to his good old "friend", Weiss Schnee, to hire some extra "help".

The two were to meet this new hire tonight, they continued walking for a little while before stoping in front of a quiet little cafe in a backstreet. ("Is this really the place?") Neo signed at Roman in sign language with a raised eyebrow. "Yep. The ice queen told me the person she'd send us specifically requested to meet up here." The tall redhead huffed while gesturing at the small building. He opens the door. "Ladies first!" Neo rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but flashed her dum-dum a smirk all the same as they both enter the cafe.

The place wasn't terribly packed, but still surprisingly full for this late at night. They were ten or so minutes early, so the melon hat donning duo decided to order something. Roman, a small coffee with two milk, two sugar and Neo a cappuccino with a pink glaced donut. The two sat down and began chatting. Or rather, Roman talked and Neo passively listened, seeing as she had her hands occupied by her sugary treat. "I sure hope Schnee sent us someone decent this time." He sighed, leaning back into his seat. "First that drunk jackass Qrow, then that crazed pyromaniac Cinder. Its almost as if every high ranking members in the Schnee family are either mentaly unstable or incompetent!" He said, while lighting himself a cigar. "And don't even get me started on that gingerheaded maniac with the grenade launcher!" He complained, while mashing his index against the table. Neo, having finished her donut finally replies: ("If you hate them so much then why don't we just jump ship?") "Because I don't want my testicles impaled at the tip of Schnee's rapier!" Roman retorted. "Also I don't hate them. I just hate working with them." He explained.

They're casual banter continued for a couple minutes, until they heard the cashier call out an order that made both their stomach sink. "One large moka with extra sugar and two double chocolate chip cookies!" Roman and Neo looked each other in the eyes. There was only one person that they knew of that could ever ingest such a sickening amount of sugar. Neo looked past Roman to see who was at the counter, her crunching face was all Roman needed to confirm his fears. (Please don't be who I think it is. Please don't be who I think it is!) He though to himself. Roman took a deep breath, then turned around on his chair. "Oh fuck my life." He muttered quietly.

Silver eyes.

Gothic lolita dress.

And the ever present hooded red cape.

Ruby Rose.

Weiss Schnee's bodyguard and favorite attack dog. A relatively recent arrival in the Schnee family, but already known by many names, the reaper, the collector, the blood rose. But to Roman, she was known as: "Little Red!" Roman called out with a nervous chuckle. "Its SO good to see you!" He continued with gritted teeth, while opening his arms. "Torchwick! Neo!" Ruby replied as she bounced over and put her order down on their table. "OOOOOOH I'm so happy to see you twooooooo!" She exclaimed as she exchanged hugs and cheek kisses with the both of them before sitting down. Now. From an outside view this girl seems rather cute and harmless right? On one hand she's cheerful, affectionate and as a love for milk and sweets. Cute. But on the other hand you've got: an obssession with weapons, a very large knife collection and a disturbing affinity with violence. Not so cute anymore. This girl is as sweet as she is dangerous. Two sides of the same messed up, contradictory coin. And THAT. Was the girl Torchwick and Neo had to work with. "Sooooooo." Ruby spoke up, tilting her head.

"I was told you two had a job for me?"

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

After Ruby had been filled in, the three headed out and made their way to the meeting point. They took a turn into a dark alley, at which point a butterfly knife was suddenly in Ruby's hand. Causing Roman to jump a little and Neo to instinctively move in between him and Ruby. (When did she even pull that out!?) Roman though. The short girl in red just stopped and stared at them with a blank look for a bit, all while she flicked the knife to and fro. Openning and closing.

*click* *click* *click*

She took a moment to take in their unnerved expressions. Before smiling and asking in an innocent tone. "Are you guys okay?" Roman knew the girl liked to fidle with her knife, but the sight of her with a sharp object in her hand will never not but him on edge. "Y-yeah. I'm fine!" He said, quickly regaining his compossure. They then continued walking down the alleyway for a bit, Ruby continuing to open and close that knife of her's.

*click* *click* *click*

To Neo, a connoisseur of knifes and other sharp objects herself. She found the sound rather relaxing. But she also knew it made her dum-dum nervous. So Neo struck up a conversation to lighten up the atmosphere. ("So, is this a new one?") Neo signed at Ruby, pointing at the butterfly knife. "Hmm? Oh naaaah! Its the same old one I always have on me! Though I did get a really really nice looking dagger at an auction last week! Its got really cool engravings on it and-" Ruby continued to ramble on, never stopping the flicking of her knife, as Neo occassionally replied in sign language. The ceaseless chatting somehow managed to calm Roman down a bit. Until...

The three of them stopped. Dead in their tracks. Ruby stopped flicking her knife and put it away in her pocket.

Five men had appeared in front of them from around the corner. Armed with pistols and metal pipes, Belladonna thugs. Then, out of a door on the side of the alley came three other men. One much bigger them the others, weilding a broadaxe, a rogue huntsmen. "Took you guys long enough!" Torchwick spoke up in a cocky tone. "I was almost getting bored." He continued while throwing away the butt of his old cigar and lighting up a new one. The leader of the thugs walks a couple steps foward. "Bold words from someone who's surrounded and outnumbered!" The thug leader barked. "Sooo quantity over quality huh? Cute." Ruby replied dryly, her smile gone. "Huh? You trying to say something bitch!?" The thug leader spat out in a threatening manner. Roman pulls a deep puff of his cigar before speaking up. "What she's trying to say is, you're all going to die. Neo? Red? If you would."

As soon as Roman finished his sentence, the rose pulled out her torn, her scythe Crescent Rose. Then, in a flurry of rose petals, she dashed straight trough two of the five thugs in front of her, beheading one and cutting the other in half at the waist, blood gushing out of them. The three remaining thugs turned around to find Ruby behind them. Neo took this opportunity to stab one in the back, then another in the throat as he turned around. While all this was happening Roman turned to face the big guy and his two cohorts. Roman was never a big fan of fighting, thats what he has Neo around for. But alas! Getting your own hands dirty is inevitable in this career. The large thug moved towards the smug cane weilding man in front of him and took a downward swing, a very slow and predictable downward swing. Roman simply dodged to the side and retaliated by hitting the rogue huntsmen in the side of the knee. The knee produced a wet cracking sound at the impact of the metal cane causing the large thug to fall and double over in pain, much to Roman's surprise. (No aura? Looks like this is gonna be easier then I thought!) Once realising that what he saw as the biggest threat was not even a threat at all, he promptly pressed the tip of his cane onto the brute's head and pulled the trigger, blasting blood all over the concrete. The other two thugs looked at each other and started running away, Roman quickly shot one in the back and pulled the other one in with the grapple side of his cane. He wasn't going to kill this one...oh no. Roman casually slaps the weapon out of the thug's hand, then wraps his arm tightly around his shoulder. And brought him towards his two acolytes. Neo, standing amongst the dead thugs, casually wiping the blood of her blade and Ruby, with a blank expression and sharp eyes, slowly walking in circles around the terrified leader of the gang whose knees were both shot out, while dragging the tip of her scythe's bloodied blade across the ground, causing sparks to fly out. Like a shark circling its prey.

Truth be told. Ruby's job wasn't to protect Roman, it was to help him set an example. "Hey friend. You want to live right?" The crime boss gently wispered to the trembling thug, who merely knoded in response. "Alright. Then I just need you to tell miss Belladonna something for me." He said before giving Ruby a knod. To that signal, Ruby raised her scythe in the air, then swung it down sideways, slicing the thug leader's legs clean off. To which the man let out a blood curdling scream. Ruby then slowly wiped the blood off of Crescent Rose before putting it away. Then back out came the butterfly knife.

*click* *click* *click*

She flicked it absentmindedly while calmly observing the man whose legs she just cut off, he was trying to crawl away crying and panicking, but Ruby didn't stop him. She just started slowly walking circles around him again, occassionsly kicking at his open wounds just to see his reaction. Like a cat toying with at bug. This went on for one or two minutes.

*click* *click* *click*

Then the clicking of the knife stopped.

Ruby kicked the man onto his back and straddled him. Then locked her dark, empty silver eyes with his terrified, tear filled ones. Gently, she put her knife to his throat and slowly slit it open. Never breaking eye contact. She watched as life quickly drained from the man's eyes.

Then, she slowly stood up. She turned to her left to face Roman, who made sure the surviving thug could see everything very clearly. She stared at the thug with something resembling a smirk. Then the knife started to click once again.

*click* *click* *click*

"See that friend?" Roman said in a soft tone. "I want you to tell your boss everything you just saw." He followed in a more threatening voice. "I want you. To tell her. That THIS, is what happens when you mess with us. Capiche?" The thug knoded frantically, while trembling like a leaf. "Good." Roman said before letting go of the thug. "Run along now! I've got other things to attend to!" He says dismissively. For a moment the thug's legs couldn't move, he was petrified by fear, like a deer in the headlights. He couldn't take his eyes off the bloodied silver eyed girl in front of him. Girl whose subtle smirk had turned into a genuine smile. One of innocence and purity, completely out of place on the face of someone covered in the blood of people she just killed. It wasn't until Ruby pulled out Crescent Rose and shot at his feet that the thug started running. And running and running. Still earing the clicking of that damn knife echoing through the alleys.

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

*click*

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

Ruby watched intently as the man ran away. Continuing to flick her bloodied knife until the sound of echoing footsteps died down.

Once everything turned quiet. She cleaned her knife and put it away once again, then stretched herself. "Hrrrrmmmm!" "I dunno about you guys but I'm pooped!" She said turning around to face Torchwick and Neo. "You guys don't need me for the actual meeting right?" Ruby said, tillting her head to the side. (The way this girl can just snap back to her usual cheerful self so quickly will never stop creeping me out...) Roman though to himself. "Nah. Your job here is done Red! You can run along now!" Roman replied as he passed some wet wipes to Ruby, which she used to clean her face and hands with. "Alright then! See yaaaaa!" The girl said as she ran off. "Oh! Remind me to treat you to some icecream for this!" Roman called out. "YAAAAAAAAAY!" Ruby exclaimed from the distance before disapearing around a corner.

"This girl just keeps getting weirder!" Roman complained, as Neo let out a silent chuckle.

[queen-scribbles]

At All Costs

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 98: Reputation. Broke out Josetta again and regret nothing. Title is the name of the quest, because I couldn’t think of anything better.

---

She was late. Josetta cursed under her breath as she hurried through the streets toward Ondra’s Gift. She hadn’t been late once yet the whole time working for Mestre Verzano. Tempted as she’d been a time or two--it had to be the most mind-numbingly dull job in all Defiance Bay--she had been raised to keep her word. And even if Mestre Verzano wouldn’t care, Liena almost definitely would, and Josetta had no desire for a black mark on her record.

She neatly dodged between people, silently thanking Hylea at least the Gift wasn’t as busy at this hour as Copperlane or Brackenbury. Despite her best efforts, however, Liena fixed her with a chastising look when she swept  through the door.

“Oversleep, did we?” she asked blandly. “I warned you all the midnight oil you burn would catch up to you.”

Josetta rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was awake in plenty of time. The delay came from spilling my breakfast all down my front because I tripped over a loose board. Had to change, ac? And then got caught by the bustle and crowds I’m usually early enough to avoid...” She ran one hand over her braids, even though she knew all seven were still firmly done from last night. Nedra had helped, and old as the woman was, her braids were still top-notch.

“Since it’s the first time in nine months, I won’t mark it down,” Liena conceded with a small smile. “You are a hard worker, Josetta, and more reliable than most.” She snorted and jerked her head toward the back room. “The old man’s so distracted today, he likely won’t even notice.”

“Agracima, Liena,” Josetta smiled in relief. She hung up her cloak and hurried to the warehouse stockroom, russet skirt swirling around her ankles.

Mestre Verzano was standing in the stockroom, calling out directions to the other workers as he played with his dinged up old pocket watch. He definitely seemed just as agitated as Liena hinted, and indeed didn’t even acknowledge Josetta as she passed on her way to the accounting stations. “...should be here by now....” he was muttering.

Bennet flashed a knowing look, and his lips curved in a smirk when he saw her.  “I keep telling you South Alley’s faster, Jos.”

Josetta rolled her eyes. “Ac, because nothing would happen to a woman alone traveling that route.”

“Not during the day,” Bennet clarified, nudging his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying it’s a good path home, just that during daylight hours there’s enough kith you should be safe, but not so many you’re late for work. Just keep it in mind for emergencies, is all I’m suggesting.”

“Suggestion noted,” Josetta said crisply, settling on her stool. “What are we working on this morning?”

“Bills of lading.” Bennet gave her an exaggerated smile as he passed over a thick sheaf of parchment. “Have fun.”

It could be worse, she reminded herself as she scanned the cramped or near-illegible rows of handwriting that covered the pages. You could still be at that tavern. Or working for the seamstress. At least here there’s sunlight and no one pinching your backside. It didn’t mean the morning’s work would be any more fun, but the perspective did help.

Josetta had been at work for a couple hours, carefully copying lists of goods received and their value to the company records, when Mestre Verzano had a visitor. There was only one reason--well, two--he would have visitors at the company office, and the tan, rough-clad elven woman definitely didn’t look like a Trading Company representative.

“Merla,” she hissed.

Bennet looked up from his ledgers at her quiet oath and groaned in disbelief. “Is he at it again?”

Josetta nodded, rubbing her eyes as Mestre Verzano made brief small talk with the elf before handing her a small bag. “Postenago’s going to get himself killed and we’ll be working for the Doemenels before the month is out.”

“With your dreams, I wouldn’t have figured you for such a pessimist, Jos,” Bennet said dryly as they watched the elf leave. Mestre Verzano approached one of the warehouse guards and murmured something to him.

“There’s nothing pessimistic about knowing how the world works, Bennet,” she sighed. “Side dealing around a crime family always catches up to you. And the Doemenels have already given him several warnings. Knowing what comes next is no more pessimistic than knowing what Nedra’s serving for dinner tonight.”

He shrugged and grunted a concession and they got back to work.

---

It was only an hour, maybe a little more, before the elf returned with friends at her back. “Care to explain why the Doemenels want you dead?” she asked, loudly and without preamble. “What the fuck did you have me do?”

Josetta and Bennet exchanged a look and slid  off their stools, edging closer to the doorway so they could hear.

Just in time to see Mestre Verzano’s eyes widen as he tugged on his beard.  “They were there? I was so careful. they shouldn’t have known, how did they know?”

The warehouse guards tensed at his agitation, a few laying hands on weapons as slow, measured footsteps approached.

“Maybe you were right,” Bennet muttered. Josetta tossed him an almost sarcastic smile in response. 

The footsteps were not one of the Doemenels. They belongs to a tall, imposing woman Josetta vaguely recognized. She was a mes Rèi; god-touched, member of the Five Suns and the only connection the ducs bels deigned to keep with Mestre Verzano. usually bringing reprimands or warning. Today she paused in the doorway, arms crossed as a darkly humored smile tugged at her lips. “Ah, is this your last day among the living, Verzano?”

“Impeccable timing, Tella Pallegina,” Verzano managed, voice shaking as he turned from the elf. He wrung his hands and held them out pleadingly toward the paladin. “Please, please, the Doemenels, they are after me! You must stop them!”

She snorted, golden eyes flickering disdainfully. “I must? No, no, Verzano. The Republics only considered you an investment worth preserving based on your success.” She looked around the half-empty warehouse as if to underscore her point. “That success hinges on your cooperation with locals. Such as the Doemenels. As you have lost that...” She fixed him with a meaningful look that tied Josetta’s stomach in knots, “you have also lost the favor of the ducs.”

So much for this being a respectable job, Josetta groaned inwardly.

“Even assuming you got out of this alive, they are done with you,” Pallegina continued. “There are much more important issues in Defiance Bay than rescuing a man who threw himself overboard.”

“Per complanca, Pallegina!” Mestre Verzano cried, falling to his knees. “You can’t mean... Whatever shame I’ve brought on myself, I don’t stand a chance against the Doemenels, you know this! Surely you don’t intend to watch your countryman cut down like a dog!”

Pallegina simply stared at him, one brow arching in disdain. “A dog would die with more dignity, I think. You know where my orders come from, ac? Why waste your precious remaining breaths trying to change them instead of crying for mercy to the one person here who may grant it?”

Her gaze and Verzano’s--as well as Josetta and Bennet’s--went to the rough-looking elf, who had been watching the whole exchange with an expression Josetta couldn’t quite read on her face and arms crossed. With attention on her now, the elf shrugged and exchanged looks with a couple of her companions.  “Sure, I can do that. Got no love for the fuckin’ Doemenels, an’ they don’t scare me.”

Pallegina snorted. “You have some saint looking out for you, Verzano. Just don’t come knocking at the embassy after she saves your sorry hide.” With a final dry smirk toward Mestre Verzano, she turned on her heel and strode out.

Josetta bit her lip. If the Doemenels were coming here, perhaps it would be wise for her and Bennet to hide. True, the scrapper elf and her motley collection of friends looked capable of handling anything thrown at them, but regardless of circumstance, the Doemenels were... not fond of witnesses. She turned to make the suggestion--

And found a gleaming dagger mere inches from her face, held by a dark clad thug standing over Bennet’s crumpled form.

“Scream an’ you’re dead,” the thug warned just above a whisper. “Keep quiet, maybe you an’ you friend here walk away alive.”

Josetta nodded, lips pressed together, relieved by the tacit confirmation Bennet was currently just unconscious. She backed against the wall to be out of the way as another thug followed the first one in. Both moved toward the doorway as a voice Josetta recognized as one of the Doemenel children rose in mock surprise.

“What a shock to see you here,” the Doemenel jibed, her tone dripping honey.  “You hardly struck me as the type to run a charity, protecting weak old fools from the fate they’ve earned.”

Josetta hesitated briefly before peeking around the door frame, her curiosity getting the better of her. The elf’s group was half a dozen against twice as many Doemenel thugs, not to mention the daughter of the house.

“However,” the Doemenel said with a cavalier shrug as she drew her rapier, “if you want to die with Verzano, it makes no difference to me.”

The elf grinned and cracked her knuckles. “That assumes I’ll be the one fuckin’ dyin’, prissy-britches.”

The room erupted into violence after that. From where she cowered, Josetta didn’t see who moved first, or most of what followed. Except Mestre Verzano yelping and scuttling for cover behind a shelf. That she saw clear as day.

The fight didn’t last long; even outnumbered the elf and her compatriots ripped through the Doemenels. (It helped, Josetta was sure, that one of their number was a wizard.) After it was done, the elf wiped down and sheathed her sabres, raking hair out of her face with one hand as she gestured at the bodies  with the other. “Make sure they’re actually fuckin’ dead an’ check on the warehouse staff while I settle things.” She turned toward the trembling Mestre Verzano as her friends carried out her instructions.

Josetta scurried back from the door, uncertain why the possibility of being caught there made her feel guilty. Maybe it was just her sisterly instincts chiding her for not staying with Bennet. Maybe she was just used to organizations that didn’t want witnesses. Whatever it was, she’d made it all the way back to her unconscious friend before a blonde-furred orlan popped her head in, teal braids swinging with the motion, and spotted them.

“Hey, you alright?” the orlan asked as she stepped into the room. 

Josetta tried not to stare at the blood spattering her armor as she nodded.

“How ‘bout your friend?” the orlan pressed, raising an eyebrow toward Bennet.  “What happened to him?”

“Knocked on the head,” Josetta said, voice only shaking a little as one hand fumbled to grasp her necklace for comfort.

“Ah. Well, I think I can help with that.” The orlan stepped closer. “I’m Keya, I helped the Watcher protect Verzano just now. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Josetta said, hating that the tremble picked that moment to get worse. “I’ve never... I just...”

“First time watching people die?” Keya said sympathetically.

Josetta just nodded, hand wrapped tight around her necklace. It was technically true.

Keya knelt next to Bennet and pulled off her gloves to start feeling for a bump.  “That’s always hard. Hopefully, since you don’t seem intent on becomin’ a hardened warrior, it’ll also be the last.”

Josetta nodded again. She didn’t trust her voice, which Keya seemed to understand.

“Here we are. Niiice goose egg, but he’ll be fine,” Keya promised. One hand lingered on the bump behind Bennet’s right ear. “Shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”

“Thank you,” Josetta mumbled. She didn’t have many friends here, and the thought of losing one was... unappealing, to put it mildly. She spotted his spectacles and reached over to pick them up, wincing at the crack across one lens.

“Here.” Keya pulled a small bottle out of a belt pouch, full of a deep blue liquid.  “Have him drink this when he wakes up, it’ll help. Especially if he’s out much longer.” With that, she pushed to her feet, pulled on her gloves, and headed back out to join her companions. Josetta heard muffled conversation for a few moments, then they left.

A couple heartbeats later, Liena leaned around the doorway. Though she was making an attempt to seem collected, Josetta could see in her eyes how rattled the other woman was. She paled, ever so slightly, when she saw Bennet. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise, but Mestre Verzano has decided to close early for the day. You are free to leave whenever you wish.”

Josetta glanced at Bennet, rested one hand protectively on his chest. “I’ll stay until he wakes.”

Liena shrugged and deposited her keys on Josetta’s desk. “Lock up when you go, and I will expect them back tomorrow. Corés.” She was gone before Josetta could echo her farewell.

Josetta could still hear people moving around in the main room; probably workers hauling off the dead. She was perfectly content to stay exactly where she was--though she did shift enough to rest Bennet’s head on her leg rather than the floor.

Eventually the sounds of clean-up faded and the others workers tramped out. Bennet finally stirred just as the last echoes of footsteps faded.

“Took you long enough,” Josetta tried to joke as he blinked hazily up at her, her fingers pausing in their repeated tracing of his spectacle frames..

“...Jos?” Bennet frowned, tried to sit up, but didn’t get very far. He relaxed back and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “....owwwwww”

“Oh, here.” She helped him sit up--her leg was falling asleep, she needed him off of it--and handed him the potion Keya had given her. “Drink.”

Bennet frowned at it, as if trying to focus. “And this is...?”

She really didn’t like how groggy he sounded. “It’ll help your headache, do you really care?”

He snorted softly and popped the cork. “No.” After he’d downed it, he blinked again and looked around on the floor.

“Oh, here.” Josetta handed him his spectacles. 

Bennet scowled at the cracked lens, and for a minute, she thought she might actually hear him curse. But he just sighed and slid them on, eyes almost crossing at the effect of the crack. “Thank you.”

It took a few minutes for the potion’s effects to kick in, but at that point, he was able to get to his feet. First leaning heavily on his desk, then trusting his own balance. Josetta insisted on walking him home. 

“In case you have a dizzy spell, or lose your balance, or something, ac? You don’t need anymore hits to the head today, aimico,” she said as she locked the door behind them.

Bennet rolled his eyes but didn’t fight her. “I didn’t even need one.” He fell in step beside her.

Josetta laughed.”True.” She tugged his arm so they skirted a pothole. “If your head still aches come morning, stay home. I didn’t see how hard he hit you, but you were out quite a while. Injuries like that can be serious, from what I understand. You need rest.”

“And possibly a new job,” Bennet said dryly. “Excitement like this is liable to drive Mestre Verzano clean out of the Dyrwood.”

“Liena’s been angling to take over for months,” Josetta pointed out. “If he does leave, she’ll just step in.”

He made an ambivalent noise that was neither concession nor disagreement and they walked in silence after that until they reached Bennet’s house. Josetta fussed over him a little more--he’d tripped  couple times as they drew closer--before taking her leave. She needed a nap herself after the day’s excitement. And that’s what she did, barely even taking time to kick off her boots before she dropped into bed.

If Bennet was right, her future might be likewise uncertain. Even if Liena did take over after this mess, there was no guarantee she could salvage the floundering outpost, or that she’d want to keep the current staff if she did. But uncertainty, like many things, was better faced when well rested, so Josetta pushed it away for now as she drifted off to sleep.

---

Apparently I need to flesh out Bennet now, since he just went from a name I stuck in as one of Josetta’s friends to an actual character. Oops. My love of male/female friendships strikes again. Seriously, this was pretty much ready to go on Thursday, but then I started debating with myself whether I should give him glasses. I delayed posting for a whole day. To decide if he should wear glasses. Clearly, he’d gonna wind up more developed. xD 

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Stone Shadows | Chapter II

Chapter I

So, I didn’t finish the next part of Ring of Fire as intended so you get this for now :)

I would love any and all feedback as I really do like this series but I don’t want to rewrite a whole fic for nothing. Thanks to any and all who read and hopefully I can hop back in and get this going.

TWO | THORIN

It was an ambush. There had been rumours of orcs remaining in the lands around Erebor since the battle. Thus, the party of dwarves should not have been surprised to find themselves at odds with a horde of orcs. Thorin Oakenshield, leading his men on a hunting trip, had found himself and his dwarves run well off the beaten path. Their game had drawn them beyond their purview and their enemy had chased them further away.

The dwarves were outnumbered by double their half-dozen. Dwalin had been the one to call for arms. Age had yet to dull his keen ears. Weapons were drawn as their foes appeared from behind the crags. The orcs bore down on the dwarves quickly, arrows barely missing their targets.

Thorin’s ax was easily freed from his back, his sword untouched at his hip. This was a fight of strength; of brutality. Even with the heavy battle ax weighing him down, he was agile. Against this enemy, defense was not so preferable to offense.

His ax shattered the dull scimitar of the first orc; their weapons worn and taken from lesser adversaries. Those innocents they preyed on. The wispy-haired orc recoiled, only a pommel left to protect itself. The king’s second blow rained down on the orc’s skull, leaving only what hair graced its head and strips of flesh along the shattered bone.

Another was quick to follow his fallen comrade. Thorin kept time with the steady battle around him. The beating of metal upon metal; steel versus steel. A deathly dance between dwarf and orc. Dodging under the blade of his new foe, Thorin spun away finding himself separated from the rest of of his party. The orc’s crooked rapier descended on him and he batted it away. He parried quickly, blood spraying across his cheek as he sliced from shoulder to hip.

“Dwalin,” He called to his companion as he met with his own adversary, “Bring our dwarves back to the Mountain. Should we find ourselves apart, I shall meet you there.”

Dwalin hesitated but returned a look of understanding; reluctant obedience. His king was much too reckless for his tastes. He had foreseen Thorin’s death much too often. He could recall then the duel with Azog which had nearly cost the king his life and his people their home. He had defied fate then but it was not so easily held off again.

Thorin found himself further from his party as another orc advanced upon him. He was reminded of the one-armed orc whom he had faced previously. The desperate struggle he had faced; which had nearly cost him all. He almost faltered at the thought. If he was further divided from his comrades, he would find himself once more at odds with his mortality. He could not hold them off forever. He was no fool either, he knew there were more orcs hiding around these lands.

He could not die here in the plains. Not at the hands of these vile creatures. He was the King of Erebor; he was sworn to lead his people and that he would do until his natural death and not before. He kept his foe at a distance as he observed his position; his dwarves were retreating as he had ordered, further from him by the second. There was forest not far to the east, the north held a caves hidden beneath the stout crags. Not many knew of those passages and those who did, dared not to traverse them. They were old and labyrinthine; the seers said they were cursed and the wise knew they were prone to collapse.

Yet, if Thorin kept to the shallow tunnels he could wait out his enemy. It would offer him a better chance than to face them endlessly. Reinforcements would not be long away. With a final strike which had his foe reeling but not defeated, Thorin made his decision. He set off for the crags, listening for the pursuit of the orc.

He looked ahead to the north-eastern mouth of the caverns and his heart leapt. He had never before descended into their heart. As a dwarfling learning his maps, he had been warned against it. No race, dwarf, elf, even orc, dared to venture into the underground. Those who did, rarely returned. And those who did emerge, were not the same. The tunnels were home only to those long thought extinct.

A panting not his own sounded from behind him. Footsteps echoed his own and steel clattered against mail. He pursuer was not far. Thorin hoped the caves would deter the orc, at least confuse him enough to dispose of him. With a final prayer to Mahal, Thorin entered the cave, his feet sending stone flying as he kept his speed.

He kept note of the tunnels arms, the light from without dimming with each step. The second right, and then a left, another right, a left down the third cavern from there. He repeated the pattern in his head so that he could find his out when the time came. The air grew colder the deeper he got and he shivered as he heard his foe follow.

Thorin slid to a halt as rocks blocked his path. A dead end. The passage had long since collapsed and left him no escape. He turned as footsteps neared, bracing for his adversary who arrived much sooner than expected. His ax caught the orc’s first blow, one so hard it had Thorin down on a knee. Ax and sword trembled against each other, blade sliding along his handle until the dwarf was force to slip away, knocking back the orc’s sword.

The orc pulled back but his blade bounced along the wall, the space tighter than he thought. Sword held back the ax’s next attack but barely. Thorin spun and aimed another strike, his dark hair fanning out around him. Steel clanged in an even rhythm as the enemies contended in the cramped corridor, grunts marking each thrust and parry.

Thorin’s foot caught one of the stones at the base of the collapse. He stumbled but recovered, barely dodging a slice along his chest. Another slid unnoticed at the disturbance but neither adversary could be bothered at the risk of their own life. Another rolled down the pile, and another, and the floor began to shift. But dwarf and orc would not have known as theystepped around the other, fighting to keep the other’s blade from their flesh.

The tension between life and death built. The cold air thickening as both foes felt the heat of fatality bearing down on them. And suddenly, the balance broke. It crumbled the floor beneath them, burdened by the weight of boulder and the fracas atop it. The orc was the first to fall and Thorin descended with him, tumbling as he remained wary of the orc’s sword which was dangerously close to his mail.

The orc slammed down onto the scatter of rocks which had preceded him. His sword was knocked loose by the collision and Thorin was saved only by the cushion of his battered foe. He landed with a thud which knocked the wind from him. He rolled from atop the orc and wheezed, struggling to find his breath. Slowly, he regained his bearing and rose with help of his ax.

The orc’s hand twitched and it weakly searched for its weapon. Thorin approached, kicking away the discarded blade though his enemy couldn’t rise if he wanted to. Blood flowed from its form along the rocks below it and the dwarf king approached solemnly. Make it quick, the orc’s eyes pled and the dwarf obliged. His ax blackened the light of the creature’s existence with a squelch.

Thorin removed his blade from the orc and turned to look around the cavern. This was exactly what he had feared. The underground. The ceiling was open from the avalanche but allowed no light. His eyes could barely take in much as adrenaline cooled in his veins. He couldn’t see more than the corpse before him and the shadows closing in. He sighed bleakly.

A rock skittered and he gripped his ax tighter. His breath formed a cloud in the air before it caught in his chest. He turned and kept his blade ready.He inched forward, trying to see through the darkness. He swallowed as he neared the direction of the disturbance, certain he’d have to face some beast of the deep.

Steel pierced the air once more and he caught himself before he could walk straight into the short blade of a dagger. He squinted at the small figure before him as she held him at bay with her pathetic weapon. Her jade eyes shone in the grey of the caves, her hand steady and taught with fear as she pointed her knife at him.

“You,” Her voice was a sharp squeak but came more even with her next words, “Who are you? What business do you have in these caves?”

“What business have you?” Thorin demanded. “And who are you to question my title?”

“You trespass,” She accused, “These caves are not the home of dwarves. So I ask again, who are you and what is your purpose here?”

“I am Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountain,” He introduced himself boldly, “So now you should answer me, who are you to question my title?”

“I…” She began tritely, “Am the keeper of these caves and you are in my home. This is not your mountain, dwarf. This is greenling territory and I am bound to my people to keep it thus.”

[nocte-argentea]

Yo yo yo friendos I just wrote a small story about my characters Vesper and Altair escaping from some bandits you should read it

“So, Vess, how exactly are you gonna get us out of this mess?”

“What, have no faith in me? I'm working on a plan as we speak!”

“HEY! You two keep quiet! Unless yer finally ready to give us the info we're lookin' fer!”

Vesper turned her head to look towards bandit who'd spoken, who was guarding the room she and Altair were currently confined in. Gods, she wanted to punch him. Unfortunately, with her and her sylvari companion currently standing back to back with their hands tied to a wooden board above them, she couldn’t indulge in that fantasy. Not yet, anyway. She rolled her eyes, though, since the bandit didn’t even bother to look at them when he yelled to be quiet.

“Oh, I’m terribly, sorry, sir, we were just discussing what to tell you lot. Right, Altair?”

Doing her best to flash Altair a roguish grin, she went back to what she'd been doing with her hands. Damn ropes won’t get themselves off.

“Oh yes, absolutely, you are absolutely right!” Vesper breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the Gods he got the message to placate the guard. He even made his voice sickly sweet to sway him. The guard, seemingly satisfied by those answers, went quiet. Altair, having learned that regular speaking voices were a no-go, started speaking in hushed whispers.

“Alright, how exactly are we getting out of here? I don't fancy being tortured until we admit that what the tabloids say about Lord Faren are true.”

Vesper forced herself to stifle the laughter that was about to erupt. Kormir knows that would only make things worse. She paused her movements for a quick moment, regarding him coolly.

“Do you truly not have faith in me, mate? You know I’ve gotten us out of stickier situations!”

“Most of the ones that you could be referring to didn’t have a time limit on them. We've got ten, maybe twenty minutes before they come back with torture devices. I’d really prefer not to be skewered today, Vesper.” Altair didn’t even want to imagine what they'd do to him. And by the tree, what would they do to Vesper? That thought alone was enough to nearly bring him to tears.

Not that he'd actually let the bandits see that they had him scared. Or let Vesper see how worried he was about her.

“Give me about fifteen seconds.”

“Fifteen seconds? Vesper, that’s not enough to do anything! What could you possibly-”

He blinked.

When did Vesper get in front of him? And how were her hands free?

“How in the hell-”

“Old trick that Tybalt taught me. First you-”

“Actually, never mind. Could you release me, please?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I was planning on leaving you here since you didn’t trust me, but since you asked so nicely, I guess I’ll let you go.” Vesper was clearly enjoying herself now, smirking at him while reaching to undo his binds. Once he was free, the next dilemma became apparent.

“Now that that's out of the way, what’s the plan for getting out of here? We need our weapons, and we can’t just walk out through the door without causing a ruckus.” Altair was astounded that the guard hadn’t noticed them yet. Actually, now that he really listened, he swore he heard snoring coming from the direction of the tunnel.

“Well, we can either kill every bandit in this hideout, make a run for it, or disguise ourselves and just walk out. I’m leaning towards the last one, personally.” It was probably their best bet, as well. They were ridiculously outnumbered, and Vesper was certain they'd call in reinforcements if they raised a fuss. Not only that, but from what she'd seen, there’s too many to simply sneak their way out. Espionage is the safest way to go, now.

“So then, we need to look like bandits. I’m assuming we can…relieve the guard of his garments, but that'd only fit me. What about you? And what about when he wakes up?”

Vesper began to respond, but something caught he attention. Footsteps were coming down the hall.

Altair noticed the sounds at this point. Thinking quickly, both of them darted to either side of the door, waiting for their chance.

“Yew idjit, fallin' asleep on guard duty!” a female voice chastised the guard. “What if th' prisoners had-” the new bandit stopped, looking at where their prized captives used to be tied up.

“…escaped?”

Before either of them could raise the alarm, they were swiftly knocked cold by the commander and her lieutenant.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that. Lets relieve these two of their garb and tie ‘em up like we were.”

One they’d changed clothes and trussed up the bandits, they put out the one torch that was present in the room. It’d be a lot more difficult to tell it wasn’t them if the room was dark.

“Should we put more clothes on them? This feels...odd.” Currently, the former prisoners’ clothing was folded up, hidden within their disguises. It wasn’t noticeable, thankfully, but Vesper felt odd leaving the bandits in just their undergarments.

“Vess, they were going to torture us or possibly kill us. Let them be humiliated.” Altair adjusted his hat and mask, to facilitate speaking. “Now, then let’s get out of here. First stop: the armory.”

The disguises worked like a charm. None of the bandits even spared them a second glance. Thankfully, the armory was easy to find, and soon enough Altair had his greatsword, and Vesper had her rapier and dagger. The only scare they even had while working their way out of the hideout was when someone mentioned ‘the wealth of information the commander must have’ in passing. 

When they could finally see the entrance to the cave, Altair could hear an uproar beginning in the deeper parts of the cave, meaning they’d been discovered.

“Alright, Vessie, any ideas now?”

“Stay calm, act natural. When we get out of the cave, run.”

“Just run?”

“Aye, mate, just run. Once we’re on open space or forest, we’re golden.”

They bypassed the cave guards without any issue, and once they were out of sight, they ran straight to the nearest forest, hoping to lose their pursuers in the dense woods. Finally, the sound of angry bandits faded, and the two wayward adventurers got a moment to rest. As they began to change back into their original clothing, with Vesper on one side of a tree and Altair on the other, the thief had a thought.

“Hey, Altair?”

“Yeah, Vess? What’s on your mind? Got a victory speech to share?” Altair said jokingly, feeling much better after getting out of that mess, and much less skewered to boot.

“Maybe later. First, I need to apologize.” That caught Altair off guard.

“It was my fault we got caught. If I hadn’t insisted on looking for treasure near the moa farm, we wouldn’t have gotten in that mess.” It was a false lead that led them there, to boot. She’d led Altair, on a rumor, to search for a treasure that didn’t even exist, and gotten ambushed by bandits in the process. 

Altair didn’t know how to respond to this. In all honesty, he’d come to expect danger when treasure hunting with Vess. His mind flashed to a month ago, when the two of them, plus Nocte and Luna, had ended up being chased by a few fire hydras in the Crystal Desert when on a treasure hunt. Technically speaking, that was much more dangerous. So why was she apologizing now?

“It’s water under the bridge, but if you don’t mind my asking, why apologize? I know the risks when coming treasure hunting with you. Also, may I walk around now? Are you decent?”

“Aye, you may. And it’s because I asked you to accompany me here on a false lead that ended up getting us caught.” She waited for Altair to walk around the tree to continue. “See, I wanted you, specifically, to join me…” she paused, leaning her head back against the tree, “because my contact said something about a Dawn being hidden in this cache.”

Oh. The precursor to the legendary greatsword he’d been working on. That explains a lot.

“Vesper, you wanted to help me?” “Of course, you’ve been helping me with my crafts, I wanted to give you a helping hand too!”

Altair, thoroughly flustered at this point, looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Vesper, you help me and everyone else so much already, you don’t have to do anything else. And I need to apologize, too.”

“Wait, what? You’ve not done anything wrong though!”

“Except that I let my nerves and fear get the best of me and forgot to trust you in the bandit hideout. I should know by now that you’ll do your best do get us out of any sticky situation.”

Vesper went silent at that. She’d not cared about his fear, it was totally natural. She sighed and looked at Altair with her trademark roguish grin. “Wanna say we’re both dumbasses then and move on, mate?”

The sylvari let out a hearty chuckle, before bowing to her. “I’ll accept that for now, but let’s be frank: I have the most common sense out of all of Dragons’ Watch.” He offered his arm, and Vesper hooked her own arm within it.

“Aye, that you do.” The two began the trek towards Divinity’s Reach with a spring in their step and in much higher spirits.

“Oh, by the way, I’m telling the rest of the guild about this misadventure.”

And like that, Vesper’s spirit was shattered.

“WHAT!?”

“Oh, of course! I’m sure that Nocte and Luna would love to hear about how you got us caught and tied up by run-of-the-mill bandits.”

She stared up at the man, who was currently wearing an incredibly smug grin.

“I should’ve left your ass tied up in the bandit hideout.”

[swordmeetssorcery]

Aefsheen’s Love

The buildings on the outskirts of the city of Oakyard rose into view on the horizon. Excited to be near his destination, the half elven wagoner shook the reins to move his team a bit faster. Aefsheen Silverthorn enjoyed his travels throughout the kingdom of Pentalohr, but it had been too long since he’d returned to this town on the southwestern fringes of Greenwood Forest. There was a special lady there he was pining to visit, and he’d been lucky enough to pick up a cargo destined for the town. The large flat stones that constituted the surface of the centuries-old Great Road made travel much smoother and faster than the other roads, and he’d made good time, even avoiding bandits for once.

 Now that the destination was within sight, the long days of pushing the team and struggling to maintain alertness watching for bandits and other dangers, and sleeping with one eye open caught up to him and fatigue crowded out the initial excitement he’d felt moments before. He was exhausted as he dealt with the city guards at the gate. They informed him (although he already knew) of the ordinances on carrying weapons: defensive weapons only - any blade larger than a dagger had to be surrendered or packed away. No bows or crossbows carried on the street. Any stick or club carried had to be small enough to tuck into a belt. No war hammers or battleaxes. He sighed and made a show of stashing into the compartment underneath his seat the bow he kept at his side while traveling, and followed it with the pair of swords that normally hung at his waist.

________________________________________________________________

Later, after delivering his cargo and receiving his pay, he visited a nearby pub for a late meal and a goblet of mead. The lady he was so anxious to see would have gladly cooked for him, but it was late and he didn’t want to trouble her with that. He happily looked forward to a hearty breakfast come morning though. Finishing his supper, he walked out to the alley where he’d parked his wagon. His fatigue must have been worse than he realized; otherwise he’d have been quicker to notice the young man approaching him, along with the others clumsily sneaking up behind him. Hells, if he hadn’t been so road weary he would have fully expected something like this. A traveler with a large wagon and two horses obviously meant money, and would be targeted by thieves. He knew full well the tactic of approaching a mark from the front while accomplices snuck up behind. After all, he’d employed it himself often enough growing up on these same streets. That seemed so long ago now.

 He muttered under his breath, swayed in his steps just a touch to appear drunk and hopefully put the three at ease and off guard. He snuck a glance over his shoulder. Two youths, barely out of childhood judging from their size and lack of any fuzz on their chins. That explained their clumsy attempt at stealth: they were likely apprentices to the one now walking past the horses. Aefsheen tried to think of a way to calm the situation with words, but then noticed the glint of steel in the approaching man’s hand. A less furtive second glance back at the two who’d now given up any pretense of stealth showed they’d also stopped bothering to conceal their weapons – one carried a club, and the other a small hatchet. Aefsheen once again cursed the city’s weapons laws. In his younger days, almost every man carried some sort of weapon. Many women did, too. Of course, in those days, there were more frequent skirmishes along the nearby border and the baron thought it wise to allow his citizens to arm themselves, giving him a reserve defense force that he didn’t have to pay. However, the marauding orc hordes had long since been driven away through cooperation between Pentalohr and the elven kingdom in the farther reaches of the Greenwood. That alliance was how Aefsheen’s parents had met. None of that mattered now, however, as the two daggers tucked into the back of his belt gave little comfort in the face of superior numbers. He also knew he’d never be able to vault to the wagon’s seat, open it and pull a sword out before he was cut down from the back. Still acting the drunk, he lurched and stumbled into the side of his wagon, reaching underneath and activating the release lever there. The sidewall dropped open, revealing one of several hidden compartments, from which he hastily snatched a longsword. As he withdrew it from its bracket, he dropped into a squat, narrowly avoiding the swish of the roughhewn log the boy was using as a club. Aefsheen twisted around to face the manchild wielding the hatchet, judging it to be the most dangerous of the weapons he faced. The longsword was heavier and less wieldy than the rapier and saber he normally used, but at the moment, the heft felt good as he swung it to parry and it sent the smallax flying out of the apprentice’s hand and across the alley.

He realized the folly of ignoring the likely experience of the thief with the dagger as he felt the blow from behind. He was quite happy that the city had no problem with his leather armor, which he hadn’t bothered to remove yet. It turned the assailant’s blade, leaving as the only wound a tear in the tunic he wore over the cuirass. He kicked at the now emptyhanded ax wielder who’d turned to flee, catching him behind the knee, and sending him sprawling, then spun, swinging the sword two handed to land a solid blow to the older attacker, who yelped, dropped his knife, and staggered to his knees as Aefsheen spoke. “Fools. Ah, but then, how could you know? I’ve been away a while, and it’s been ages since I lived here. Well, let this be a lesson learned, should you survive: never trust that the staggering man is drunk, and if you lose sight of a mark’s hands, be wary. If an apparent drunkard suddenly moves swiftly, back off and go find an easier mark. I’m sure if you make your way back to the Thieves’ Guild, they’ll help you with that wound, and also agree with my advice.”

The wounded thief retrieved his blade and, looking like he wanted to bring it to bear, started struggling back to his feet. “Curse that coward Matick for fleeing like that. Wait until I get my hands ‘round his throat.”

 “Darrig, he makes a strong argument. Shouldn’t we head to the House?” asked the young man, club now hanging listlessly from his hand.

 “Curse you for a chicken’s turd, too, Kentry! Stand and fight like a man!” At that, the man lunged to his feet, thrusting clumsily with his blade. Aefsheen easily sidestepped the attack, and used the flat of his blade to trip Darrig.

 “Come now, Darrig, don’t expect a boy to be a man. Why, neither of them even has a hair on his chin yet. Seriously, return to the Guildhouse, and tell them you’ve been schooled by Aefsheen Silverthorn. I’m tired, I’m bored of your company, and the next time I swing this blade, it won’t be the flat that connects.”

 As Kentry reached to help Darrig up, the older thief shoved him away and used the back corner of the wagon to pull himself to a stand. He’d apparently come to understand which of his options was the wiser, and, hobbling, led the young apprentice back down the alley.

 Aefsheen wiped the blood off the sword’s blade and returned it to its secret compartment, closing the door so that the portal was unnoticeable once again.

 ________________________________________________________________

The wagon clattered along the cobblestones, the horses as tired as the driver, but he was wide awake now after the fight, and also with the knowledge that he’d soon lay eyes on the woman he loved. He began to notice movements in the shadows alongside the wagon; a figure skulking through the darkness along the buildings shuttered for the night. Apparently the gods had seen fit to make up for the lack of highwaymen on the road by throwing an abundance of adversaries at him once he was near his journey's end. He turned off the main boulevard two blocks early, pulled the horses up in front of a random house and dismounted, all while watching the prowler from the corner of his eye. He jumped into the back of the wagon to retrieve his pack, and as he suspected, the shadowy one approached the wagon, bent over, and crouched beneath it, apparently waiting for Aefsheen to exit. He jumped down, hand on dagger hilt, expecting to have his legs grabbed, but the lurker remained still. Aefsheen strode to the front of the vehicle, climbed up to the driver’s seat and withdrew his preferred blades, throwing their belts over one shoulder, but leaving the rapier handle where it could be easily grasped.

As he approached the gate, he sensed more than heard the soft footfalls behind him. At least this one had skill. He pretended to fumble with the lock at the gate, allowing the other to approach. As the man came within reach, he drew the rapier as he turned, and laid the edge against the man’s neck. The man, dressed all in black, was saved by the fact that his hands were empty. Aefsheen dropped his pack and the sword belts, pushing the edge of his thin sword against the other man’s neck and backing him up until he was stopped by the wagon.

 “Please. Please spare me! Forgive me; I was only doing what I was hired to do.” “Who hired you, and why, if not to harm or rob me?”

 “I swear, I don’t even know his name! He approached me just this evening and paid me handsomely to follow you and see where you stopped for the night. Please, you must know that there are many who’d pay well to learn the location of your home or wherever it is you retreat to in Oakyard so frequently. I swear I mean you no harm myself. Allow me to go and you’ll never see me again.” “You’re unarmed and didn’t try to attack me while my back was turned – that says something. And your story makes sense; I’ve made more than a few enemies in my career. I’ll let you go. I’ll even do you the favor of giving you a minor wound to convince your employer you did your best but were caught. That should be believable. “As for never seeing you again, that may be or it may not. Rest assured that if I or any of my spies see you in this neighborhood again, I will find you. I’m not an evil man, but there are things and people I will do horrible things to protect or avenge. You will no longer do business in this quarter. If you live anywhere nearby, I’d suggest moving. Tonight. Now, go!” With the last syllable, Aefsheen pulled the razor edge of the sword along the side of the man’s neck. The cut was shallow, but it would bleed enough to be convincing. He waited until he was sure the man was long gone, then got back in the driver’s seat and set the team in motion, circling a back way around to his original destination.

As he came up to the actual gate he’d been headed for all this time, another figure detached itself from the shadows. This one, however, was a welcome sight.

 “Aefsheen, you’ve taken your sweet time getting here tonight, sir.” The young boy chided. “Davaren, my young friend, you are a sight for sore eyes. I trust all is well at the house?” “Yes, sir”, the urchin replied, “and she still has no idea she’s being watched over. We keep ourselves hidden at night, and unobtrusive in the day. However, I heard a commotion a couple of streets over just now – was that you?” Aefsheen relayed the story of the second attacker and gave a description of his attacker to the young man, telling him to get a message to Aefsheen if the prowler was ever seen within a few blocks of the house, then tossed the kid a small sack of coins and told him to take the night off and to let the others know he’d be on duty himself the next couple of days while he visited.

 After letting himself in the gate and putting the horses away, he was weary, yet excited as he made his way to the back door. He could see a glow from inside – apparently the sounds of the wagon and the team had awakened her and she’d lit a lantern.

 He stepped into the light, and as his eyes adjusted, the only woman he’d ever loved, her hair glowing and face beaming in the lantern’s light, strode to him with arms open, saying “Welcome home; it’s been so long this time.” He opened his arms too, smiled warmly, and enveloped her in his embrace, saying “Hello mum”. (Copyright 2020 Robert Worth Cadenhead, Jr.)

[keikaku-sama]

Book of the Atlantic: Chapter 7

Rating: Some early chapters are rated T. Some later chapters are rated M. Reader discretion is advised.

Side note: Sentences in Italics without quotation marks are thoughts. Sentences in “Italics” with quotation marks are characters on the other end of a phone call speaking. Sentences in “Bold and Italics” with quotation marks are characters saying things angrily, venomously, for emphasis, or the like.

And, sentences in “Italics and are in headline font” with quotation marks, are two characters speaking in unison. Sentences in “Bold, Italics, and are in headline font”, are three or more characters speaking in unison. Sentences in Bold and Italics without quotation marks is a character telepathically speaking to another character.

“Now rise from the ashes, my dear!

“Like a phoenix!!”

Adrian placed a hand on the gun holster on the back of his belt, glaring at the corpse, as it rose.

“Please, take a good look!

“Our medical science can overcome even death!”

The mourning woman-The corpse’s mother, then hugged the corpse.

“Maggie! Oh, Maggie, my sweet child!! Thank you so much, doctor!!”

“This is ‘Absolute Salvation’!”

Ciel suddenly stood in shock, as he gaped. “What exactly is going on here?! Did a corpse really just come back to life?!”

The corpse’s maw then opened wider than any human could.

“As long as you are alive, your mothe-“ The woman then screamed, as the corpse bit into her neck.

“M-Maggie-?! What is the-Ow-“The woman was then killed.

The audience screamed, and ran for their lives.

The corpse then got up out of the coffin, and headed for the nearest person.

Which, apparently, was Yuki.

The ghoul summoned her weapons, and was about to draw her shotgun, when-

BANG!!

The corpse’s head exploded, splattering brains, blood, and skull fragments, everywhere.

Yuki, and Ciel, looked to the source, and saw Adrian with a large hand gun….cannon, pointed at where the corpse had been.

“Adrian?”

“I told you I’d protect her just fine on my own if Larten didn’t get here in time, Vlad.”

At that, the ghoul’s eyes widened, before she, Ciel, and Sebastian, looked to see a tall man in red glaring at the mortician.

“Okay, I was wrong. You don’t have to rub it in…..I’m staying, though.”

“Alu~!”

The black haired man was then hugged tightly by the white haired girl, who looked up at him with a radiant smile.

Alucard stared at her, before smiling softly, and ruffling her hair. “Hey, flower.”

“Undertaker, what-How was that corpse moving?! Wouldn’t it have been soulless?!”

The renegade reaper looked at the Earl, as he let his arm drop to his side.

“It was being made to move by the electricity, and a chip implanted into its brain. The electric currents send signals from the brain to the rest of the body. So that it can move, even in death.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “So, by destroying the head, you destroyed the chip?”

Adrian smiled politely at the demon, before responding. “Yes. Or is that too hard for you to understand?”

At that, the butler’s eyes glowed red, as he glared at the Undertaker.

Yuki had to bury her face in her uncle’s chest to keep herself from laughing at that, while Ciel’s eye twitched. “Would you stop it?!”

“May I kill him, young master?”

“No, you may not!”

“Hee Hee Hee Hee~! Insulting you is fun, master butler~!”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“I order you not to kill him!”

Michaelis was halted in his steps toward the laughing reaper by that.

“I see that you killed it before I could get here.”  

A blonde man rode in on a lawnmower, making Yuki laugh. “A lawnmower? Really?”

“Hey! I like it! The girls at administration let me get it modified!”

“So you didn’t have a choice.”

“Shut up!”

The man glared at the ghoul, before going over to the half eaten corpse in the coffin. “You gonna eat this?”

“I’d rather not eat something someone’s already taken a bite out of. And I ate two weeks ago.”

“Hee Hee Hee~! But you steal my food all the time, Yuki~!”

“That’s different!”

The white haired girl then looked back to the vampire king, who she was still hugging. “Alu?”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where Larten is?”

“Let’s go.”

“Wha-“ The vampire then gently pulled his niece out the door Rian Stoker escaped out of, Adrian following behind.

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Ronald were talking.

“Would you happen to be the famous ‘Bassy’?”

The demon’s face lit up at hearing his ex-girlfriend’s nickname for him. “I am indeed Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the house of Phantomhive. And you are?”

The reaper plastered on a fake smile. “Ronald Knox. Grim Reaper dispatch, retrieval division. Thanks for lookin’ out for my senior.”

“N-“

“Not.”

“Huh?”

Ronald glared at the demon butler. “Really, you’re an asshole. You weren’t there for her when she needed you the most, you threw her away like she was garbage.”

“Young master, I believe that you should go find Rian Stoker.”

“Sebas-“

“Now.”

Ciel tensed at that, before nodding reluctantly. “Al…All right. Come find me later, then.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The slate haired boy then ran out the door that Alucard, Yukino, and Adrian had gone through.

Sebastian glared at Ronald with glowing red eyes. “Now, what were you saying before?”

The reaper scoffed at the butler. “She told you didn’t she? She said she did, and you said that they weren’t important enough.”

“Tell me what?”

“That she gave birth to your daughter thirteen years ago.”

■————————————————————————————■

Yuki sighed, as her uncle stayed silent, ignoring her questions.

“Yuki!”

The girl perked up, and looked behind her, to see Ciel running to catch up with them. “Hey, Ciel. Where’s Michaelis?”

“He’s fighting with a grim reaper I believe, over an insult.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

The ghoul’s eye twitched at that, as she turned back to watch where she was going.

“Oh, Lizzie, you may need this.”

Ciel blinked in confusion, when Yuki said Lizzie’s name, before ducking, as the ghoul had thrown a weapon behind her.

“Thank you!”

The Earl yelped, and jumped, startled when he heard Lizzie’s voice behind him.

Which made Adrian laugh.

“May I ask what kind of weapon this is?”

“Rapier-machine gun. I have more rapier weapon combinations than that, if you want a different one.”

“No thank you~ I quite like machine guns~ I almost always use them in Fallout 3, and any other game with guns in it~”

The ghoul smiled at that, before walking next to Alucard. “Alu, did you get into an argument with Larten?”

“We’re almost there.”

Yuki growled, and pouted, as her uncle avoided answering her.

They had almost made it to the cargo hold, when Adrian grabbed the vampire king’s shoulder tightly. “You guys go on ahead of us. I need to have a word with Vlad.”

The ghoul looked at the renegade reaper worriedly, but nodded, and led Ciel and Lizzie further down the hall.  

Once the trio was out of earshot, the silver haired man glared daggers at Alucard, as he squeezed the other man’s shoulder.  “What did you do?”

The man in red raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what the fuck I mean, Vlad. What did you say, and do, to Larten? Did you actually throw him overboard as you said you would, when you muttered it under your breath yesterday?”

The black haired man’s eyes widened, as he thought that Adrian hadn’t heard him.  “I was just kidding. I wouldn’t actually do that. He’s my nephew, after all.”

The Undertaker dug his claws into the vampire’s shoulder, and glared death at him. “You don’t kid about things like that. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did throw him overboard, given all that you’ve done in the past.”

At that, the No-Life King snarled at the reaper.  "Don’t you fucking dare bring that up, Adrian. Especially not in front of Yukino.”

“Why not? She’s read about you. She knows what you’ve done. She just chooses to ignore that, in favor of loving you unconditionally, what with her belief of ‘The past is the past. What matters now is the present’.”

Alucard tried to shake off the mortician’s claws, and strike him, but Adrian’s grip wasn’t to be trifled with, and he caught the vampire’s fist in his hand, and squeezed, nearly breaking the other’s hand.

“Let me tell you something, Vlad.”

The vampire king growled, and tried to strike the other man again, only to be kneed in the stomach.  

“The anger of your dear big brother’s that you know so well, is not his own.”

Alucard coughed, as he raised an eyebrow.  “Huh…?”

“It rubbed off on him.”

The man in red blinked at that. “What? Then…who-“

“It rubbed off on him from me. Except, my anger can be much, much more deadly at times.”

The vampire’s eyes widened, as Adrian released the fist he was holding, and tightly clamped his hand over the vampire king’s mouth, then brought the other’s face closer, before whispering in his ear.  

“I don’t care if you’re Crowley’s little brother. If you hurt my step-children, or anyone else in the family that I have come to love so much, you will find yourself a pile of ashes. Understand?”

Alucard tensed at that, before grunting in understanding.  

The Undertaker grinned at that, as he let go of the vampire, who quickly jumped away from the silver haired man. “Good~! I’m glad we understand each other then~! Now, come along~! We don’t want to keep them waiting, do we~?”

Not trusting his mouth, the vampire king shook his head, and followed the renegade reaper, to wherever the teenagers were.

They found them waiting at the entrance of the cargo hold, and Yuki was showing Lizzie how to actually use a real life machine gun, and Lizzie showed-or tried to show-Yuki how to use a rapier.

“GAAAAAH! I don’t like just stabbing things! I like going ‘Slashy! Slashy!’ and ‘Hack! Hack!’ You can’t do that with a rapier!”

Adrian, and Alucard, burst into laughter at the ghoul’s use of sound effects.

“GYAH HA HA HA HA!!!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!!”

The white haired girl blushed, and glared at them.

“S-Shut up!”

Yuki then quickly turned her head to Ciel and Lizzie, as she heard them chuckling. “Stop!”

The ghoul whined, making Lizzie stop, as she thought they were hurting her feelings. “Oh, I’m sorry, Yuki. It’s just that, you were so very cute when making those sounds~! ♡”

Ciel stopped chuckling and blushed, his eyes widening at what Lizzie just said.

“L-Lizzie!”

“What?”

“Where did you hear such dirty pick up lines?!”

“Believe it or not, that was not the dirtiest one I know. I believe that the one Adrian told me yesterday is the dirtiest.”

“UNDERTAKER!”

“Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee~!”

Lizzie suddenly noticed that Yuki was being silent, and looked, to see the ghoul’s whole body flushed, and she was swaying back and forth. “Yuki?”

The white haired girl then fell to the floor, with her soul flying out of her mouth.

“Waaah! Yuki!”

The blonde girl panicked, and crouched next to the younger, then grabbed a hold of Yuki’s soul, and stuffed it back into her.

The girl ‘came back from the dead,’ before she began to stammer, and fumble over words in Japanese, as Lizzie began shaking her friend, trying to unfry her brain.

“I believe we should go look around in the cargo hold now~”

At that, Yuki sat up, her blush gone, as Lizzie helped her up, before threading her arm through the taller girl’s, as they followed the males down the dark staircase.

“Why’s it so dark….”

“No one comes down here until the ship gets to port, dearest.”

The ghoul whined at that.

Before she stood up straight, as she had an idea.

The white haired ghoul requipped black and green leather gloves, before the one on her right hand suddenly combusted seemingly spontaneously.

Ciel yelped at that, startled and worried about the ghoul. “Yuki! Put it out! You’ll burn your arm!”

“It won’t burn me, Ciel. These gloves are fireproof, and make it so the flames don’t travel unless I want them too.”

“Wha-How-How-“

“Magic~”

Ciel’s eye twitched at that, before he looked ahead to watch where he was going.

The light of the flames engulfing Yuki’s hand was much brighter than any flashlight could ever be, and helped the ones with human eyes see better, as they made it down to the cargo hold.

And when they did, Yuki was tackled in a hug by a silver blur, making the flames go out.

“Yuki~!”

“Papa?!”

The one who tackled her kissed nearly every inch of her face like a thousand times, making the ghoul whine, and try to pull away. “Papa! Stop it!”

“But I just wanted to give my step-daughter some love! I haven’t seen you in forever, you know!”

“You saw me five days ago!”

“That’s too long!” The man then nuzzled her cheek, as Yuki tried to crawl out of his iron grip.

“Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee~!!!”

“Shut it!”

“Mr. Bathory, I believe that you should let Yuki go, as we need light, and she’s it.”

“Hm? Oh. Sorry.” The silver haired man let go of his step-daughter at that, kissed her face once more, then helped her up.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome~”

The flame burst back to life, letting Ciel and Lizzie see the man who hugged the ghoul, as well as two other men behind him.

The one who had hugged Yuki, had long silver hair that was in a ponytail, ruby red eyes, long, pointed ears like Yuki’s, and wore a white vampire noble uniform.

The tall, orange haired man behind the silver haired vampire stood defiantly, with his hands on his hips, and had a smile on his face, and wore a white Rend Collective t shirt, under a black leather jacket, with military green cargo pants, and brown, knee high combat boots.

And the third man, was crouched on the floor, feeding food to snakes, and had white hair, with golden eyes, and had scales on his cheeks and forehead, and was wearing a footman’s tuxedo.

“Snake?!”

“TenTen!” Yuki was happy to see her older brother, and had to restrain herself from hugging him, as she had her hand engulfed in flames that could hurt him badly.

The orange haired vampire smiled at his sister in greeting.

“T-Too bright. -Says Wordsworth.”

“Oh! Sorry!”

Yuki then made the flames become smaller than her palm, before yelping in surprise, as a certain pitch black King Cobra slithered up her leg, and wrapped himself around her shoulders. “Well, hello, Bram~!”

The cobra hissed happily, while Larten and Ferid looked at her in confusion.

“Yuki…”

“Hm?”

“You do know that you have a very venomous snake around you, right?”

“Yep!”

“Then why are you letting it on you?”

The ghoul raised an eyebrow, and frowned, while letting Lizzie pet Bram. “Cause he’s my friend. And aren’t you being a bit hypocritical? You let probably the most venomous spider in the world crawl on you, and let her spin a web over your open mouth, and countless other things.”

“But I’m a vampire. The venom would have no effect on me if she bit me. You, however, aren’t, the venom could kill you should your cobra ‘friend’ decide to bite you.”

“He wouldn’t bite me. He-“

“Alright, that’s enough, you two.”

“But-“

“That’s enough.”

”Yes sir.”

“Jesus Christ! This place is like a maze!”

At the new voice, Yuki’s eyes widened.

A figure walked forward, and came into the light of the flame.

It was a man, with messy sky blue hair, and matching eyes, with teal markings like a panther’s around his eyes. He was wearing a white sleeveless denim jacket, had on white distressed Levi’s, donned white fingerless gloves, and wore black combat boots.

The most peculiar things about him, however, were a sword strapped to his waist, that seemed to give off the same sort of power Yuki gave off, and a jaw bone mask on his cheek.

[queerlybrazen]

This is a written piece about the DnD campaign I have going on with @turianjournalist , @felxndaris, and a few other friends. To clear things up for anyone that wants to read it: Yevelda is a half-orc fighter, Maeve is a halfling bard, Emry is half-elf ranger, Torrin is a dragonborn druid, Eze is a gnome barbarian, Safaris is a tiefling rogue, Obsidian is Emry’s panther companion, and Billy is Torrin’s goat companion. So, if you read this thanks! If you don’t want to follow this content I will be tagging them as #DnD and #Mavelda every time.

Yevelda smiled as she walked with Maeve perched on her shoulder down the winding road. The weather was perfect for walking in between towns, providing a nice day for traveling for the party. Eze was sitting on top of Billy’s back smoking a joint and trying to get the goat to join her. Thankfully, Torrin was keeping a watchful eye on her actions. For the life of her Yevelda would never understand that gnome. She was beyond aggravating, always managing to hit on Yevelda’s last nerve, but still they kept her around. Eze was at least useful in a fight. Emry kept up a conversation with Obsidian as they traveled. They discussed the tree growth in the area and how healthy the grass appeared. After the hellscape of the big city, the ranger was excited to interact with nature again. Torrinn, the darling, was humming a bit under his breath as he walked alongside Billy and Eze. Yevelda couldn’t help but smile at the small dragonborn. Safaris trailed toward the rear of the group, lurking along without much conversation. She was a mysterious person, but she was loyal to their mission. Finding Kriv was easier said than done, but Safaris was willing to help in order to keep Torrin happy.

Yevelda had never felt this level of contentment before. She had been treated like a lesser being her entire life, and to have friends that depended on her was a new concept. The responsibility was frightening, yet added a sort of comfort to her day. She knew that every morning she was going to be met with the faces of her companions.

“It’s nice out, huh? Emry sure seems to be enjoying himself,” Yevelda said to Maeve.

“Yeah, not bad. I’m glad we are all out of that city,” they said in response.

“Definitely. I never thought I would have to go back. I’m just glad we got out without too much trouble. My past could have quickly caught up with us, and I didn’t want to put that on the group.”

“I understand that. There are a lot of bad memories in that city,” Maeve sighed and their body kind of drooped. Yevelda felt panic twinge through her chest at the distress Maeve seemed to be feeling. Out of everyone, Yevelda trusted in their friendship the most and knew that if worst came to worst she would always side with the halfling.

“Is there...I don’t know” Yevelda grumbled trying to put her words into a cohesive sentence, “Can I help? With anything?”

Maeve was silent for a second, “ I don’t…”

Their words were interrupted by a man standing in their path along the road, “Hello travelers!”

Yevelda tensed up at the introduction, feeling on edge with the sudden appearance. She knew that this was most likely a robbery, kidnapping, or assassination attempt. However, the last was the least likely given that an assassin would be an idiot to announce their presence.

“You are all very kind to donate to our fund today! I’ll need money, jewels, weapons, and any other valuables you may be carrying,” the man announced while holding out a bag of holding.

“Oh yeah! Let’s-” Eze began before being cut off by Emry and held back by Torrinn.

“You, sir, should not attempt to steal from us. This will end poorly for you,” Emry announced.

“Yeah, yeah you filthy noble. Come on prissy pants, put all your shit in the bag and none of you will get hurt,” The thief snarled.

“You think you could take all of us on? By yourself? Our gnome here would love to kill you right where you stand.” Emry rebuked. Yevelda strained to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The sad fact of the matter was that Emry wasn’t even lying.

“You might not be afraid of me alone but how about-,” the man whistled loudly, “15 of my men?”

“Hey, Fuckwit,” Yevelda gruffed while gently placing Maeve on the ground and stepping in front of them, “We are going to walk through here with all of our stuff and there isn’t a thing you can do to stop us. Your men don’t scare me.”

“Bold much, Half-Orc bitch?”

“Fuck you!” Maeve shouted trying to skirt around Yevelda, “Let’s go!”

“Maeve!” Yevelda barked before turning her attention back to the thieves, “As my companion here was trying to say you can either let us pass or face the consequences.”

The man bellowed out in laughter, and the group took that as a cue to draw their weapons. Yevelda quickly unhitched her warhammer and shield from her back. The familiar weight of the weapon brought a small sadistic smile to her face. She enjoyed the hefty weight of the hammer in her hand, and knew that these men would not be much of a challenge. They reminded her of a gang from her past that was quickly wiped out because they got too ambitious and tried to take from the wrong people. Thievery is a game of wits, and those as bold as this man wouldn’t last long in the real world of crime. Yevelda has seen people from all walks of life attempt this gig only to fail miserably. She was glad to teach this poser a lesson about stealing.

“One last chance, put your shit in the bag and no one will get hurt,” he demanded confidently.

“It’s your last chance to give up now before you all die,” Yevelda growled out, tusks jutting out further in a menacing look.

“Fine have it your way,” the man suddenly ducked and a flaming ball of fire flew straight over his head aimed at Emry.

In that instance the fight had begun. Yevelda watched as Eze went beserk, charging into the group of men with her hand axes held high. She tried to take out as many kneecaps as she could. Emry had dodged the fireball in time by rolling out of the way. He quickly came up to one knee and began firing shots off into the group of men. He ordered Obsidian to attack their leader. The panther lunged forward, only to be struck in the side with an icy blast from another magic user in their band. Emry cried out in horror as his beloved panther fell. Safaris was quick to rush in and scoop up the injured feline and pull him out of the fray. She moved with the grace of a dancer on the battlefield, dodging blows all while carrying the great beast. Once she laid the cat at Emry’s feet, she worked her way back into the fight. Daggers glinted in the sunlight as she struck out against the large human men attempting to pin her down. Each of their clumsy moves was countered by three of her own. In no time she had debilitated two of her attackers and was working on another. Torrinn had shifted into a timber wolf and was circling around the band of thieves quietly, trying to gain the element of surprise. He latched onto the shoulder of one of the archers in the back of the group. His screams rang out, echoing loudly through the trees.  A smile cracked Yevelda’s face knowing that even sweet Torrin was fighting for all he was worth.

Yevelda knew that taking out the leader was the best plan of action for ensuring that the fighting ceased. If he died, his men may not feel like continuing the battle and that could cut down on injuries. Without Warren the group was more vulnerable, and getting injured now could spell death. Launching with a yell, Yevelda swung her hammer out in hopes of striking the leader in the head. Unfortunately, he was quick and deftly dodged out of the way. He pulled a rapier from his hip and squared up to fight. Yevelda let out a large huff of air reminiscent of a laugh. This puny man thought he could fight her with that dinky little weapon. The thief’s eyes glinted as his eyebrow quirked upwards.

“You underestimate my abilities, half breed,” he spat the insult like it was fire in her direction.

“Like I haven’t heard that before from my victims,” Yevelda added a growl to the end of her sentence.

The duo began to circle each other, trying to test the waters without jumping in. Yevelda knew that she had an advantage in strength and reach over the man, but he was much quicker than her. If he got under her swing, he could take jabs at her abdomen. But if she swung upwards he would have nowhere to dodge and get within her space. As they pair finished their appraisal of the other, Yevelda caught sight of Maeve firing bolts into crowds of thieves from a boulder they had perched upon. The sight of was a reminder of what could happen if Yevelda didn’t finish this fight fast. With a plan formed Yevelda faked to the left and swung her great hammer upwards toward the man’s chin on his left side. He had attempted to lunge at her right side with his sword, but that had only put him in a better position for her attack. Yevelda caught the thief under the chin with her mighty swing, snapping his head back and severing his neck from the spinal column. He dropped into a heap on the ground, his lifeless body folding in upon itself.

“I think you underestimated me,” Yevelda bellowed as she attached her shield to her back and grabbed the corpse, “Your leader is dead. Cease and desist.”

“NO!” a man that was lingering back in the group screamed. He quickly summoned a great ball of fire in his hands and flung it out towards Yevelda. Without her shield the fire would inflict massive damage. Frantically she dropped to ground, and tried to roll out of the way of the attack. Her somersault brought her back up to her feet in one fluid motion as she pulled a dagger from its holster on her thigh. With sheer force, Yevelda flung the blade at the magic user and impaled him through his breast bone. She could hear him choking on blood that quickly pooled in his throat and lungs.

“Anyone else?” She replied eerily calm.

“Yevelda!” Torrin shouted from behind her, “Maeve! They’re hurt.”

With that Yevelda turned her back on the enemy, a move that no fighter should ever make in the heat of battle. Torrin was cradling an unconscious Maeve in his arms. They were burned badly indicating that the fireball aimed at Yevelda had indeed met a mark. Suddenly red filled Yevelda’s vision. The world was drowned in blood and she was prepared to add to it. With speed that a person her size should never possess, Yevelda whipped around and faced the five remaining men. They were at fault for hurting Maeve. They were the reason Maeve was burned and in pain. With a blood-curtling scream, Yevelda charged the men with two axes in hand. Rage like she had never felt coursed through her veins, even when she had been tied down and beaten by the orc gang she had not felt this bloodlust. With vicious precision Yevelda cut through the enemies bodies as if they were butter. As she powered onward she could feel weight begin to drag her down, but nothing would stop her from obliterating the cause of Maeve’s pain.

“Yevelda! Stop!” Emry shouted as he clung to her back.

“Fucking hell,” Eze cursed as she was dragged behind Yevelda, hanging onto her leg for dear life.

“See reason Yevelda! That one is the healer! He could fix them!” Safaris reasoned as she tried to wrap her tail around Yevelda’s stomach. Their efforts were making little impact on the rampaging woman. The man was quivering in fear, knowing that the warrior was seconds away from slicing him in half like his companions mere seconds before. However, Torrin stepped in front of the man, clutching the dying Maeve to his chest.

“Yevelda, stop,” he whispered, standing directly in the path of destruction.

Abruptly all motion ceased, and Yevelda stood centimeters from Torrin and Maeve. Great puffs of air were forced from her lungs in an effort to maintain control over her emotions. Peering over the top of Torrin’s head, Yevelda could see the final member of the band of thieves. He had soiled himself in fear, and was currently slumped to the ground in obvious relief. He didn’t appear to be carrying anything other than a dagger and a bag of holding. A thief with so little was most likely support for the others in his group, meaning he was most likely a healer.

“Are you a fucking healer?” Yevelda said, still trying to push her rage and panic down deep in her chest.

At first the man winced at her voice, then slowly looked up.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Yes…” he meekly replied.

Yevelda reached out for Maeve, and Torrin didn’t hesitate a moment before handing them over. She cradled the halfling gently in her arms, the blood from the slaughtered men staining Maeve’s clothes.

“Fix Maeve, or I will end your pitiful life with my bare hands,” Yevelda threatened in a menacing whisper.

“Y-yes,” the man began digging in his bag of holding, “Set her down here.”

“It’s they,” she barked.

“R-r-right. Set them down here.”

Yevelda knelt down, protecting Maeve’s body with her own. She balanced their tiny body on her lap and awaited the healer’s instructions. All the while, Yevelda never took her eyes off of Maeve’s face. They looked so broken, with burn marks running across their chest. The fireball had hit them dead center, a hit Maeve could had deftly dodged if they had seen it coming. But, they hadn’t because the blast had been meant for Yevelda. If only she had taken the hit instead, Maeve wouldn’t be this close to death. Yevelda could still feel small, bird-like breaths, but they were fading out fast.

“I need you to open their mouth. This is a potion of superior healing, so it will hopefully be enough to save their life.”

Quickly following the command, Yevelda gently opened Maeve’s mouth and held it so the healer could pour the potion slowly down their throat. Once the vial was emptied, Yevelda sat still as a statue waiting for any sign of improvement.

“Please Maeve. You have to come back,” she whispered softly so that no one but Maeve could hear.

The halfling’s eyes began to flutter open and they saw Yevelda’s face covered in blood hovering over them. Tears shined in Yevelda’s eyes, and Maeve knew she was fighting back her feelings for the sake of the group. Yevelda was always like that, looking out for everyone but herself. Maeve gingerly reached up and wiped some of the blood off Yevelda’s cheek.

“You know this stuff stains right?” they said gruffly, their throat still sore.

A bright smile overtook Yevelda’s face and a few tears fell, “So I’ve been told. I should have cleaned up before welcoming you back, but I figured saving your life should come first.”

“Eh, I’ve seen you looking worse.”

“Well, you certainly have never looked better. Being alive suits you,” Yevelda hugged Maeve to her chest gently. She had never felt so relieved in her life, and that might account for the swift kiss she placed on Maeve’s hair.

The group let the two have their moment, knowing that it was more significant than either Yevelda or Maeve realized. Emry talked to the thief and let him go on his way after handing over several more healing potions. One of which Emry took to the injured Obsidian and administered immediately. Safaris, Eze, and Torrin began collecting weapons off of the ground and looting the bodies for valuables.

“When are those two going to figure it out already?” Eze whined.

“They have to get there on their own time,” Safaris said.

“I can’t wait till they do!” Torrin chimed in.

Yevelda straightened herself out of the kneeling position and gently placed Maeve atop her shoulders so they wouldn’t have to walk. She grabbed up her discarded weapons and turned to find the rest of the party waiting on her.

“What the hell are you all waiting for? Get a move on,” she commanded while rejoining them, glad to have the familiar weight of Maeve on her shoulders again.