#the unending journey: the lightning strike

[ishgard]

"Surely you must know how I feel for you. How I have always felt for you."

Lost Time -

pairing: wol x alphinaud word count: 3269 summary: Set after the events of 7.0, Kyanite Alphinaud takes Ahru on a small, more personal tour of Solution 9. After showing her around, they end up perched atop the roofs, falling into the comfort of familiar conversation, and trying to bridge the gap in time that was lost. tags/warnings: talky, introspective, wip a/n: it's a scene that kept rattling in my brain and i just had to get it out, but it's a bit rough. I'd write out the whole 'not-date' if I had more time 😩

"What do you think of it?" He asked.

"It's… almost unlike anything I've ever seen. It brings to mind the advancements of Alphatron and Allag, but it's so much…" She squinted at the distant shapes of buildings, colorful lights shining through the windows and the glitter of electrope twinkling everywhere. "Prettier?"

As mixed as her feelings were about the whole of what Alexandria had done, it was much more appealing to her eye than most Allagan architecture. Then again, perhaps she's simply developed a soured, over-exposed perspective.

Alphinaud chuckled. "I had thought you might like it." He said, speaking so softly it was almost a whisper. She couldn't have known but it was a voice he'd used countless times in private, speaking to her in the years of her absence.

"Many a time did I consider what you would make of it all. Sometimes I figured you'd abhor it, yet something about it, and even now I'm not quite sure what, made me think otherwise."

"Heh, you know me so well." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'm not exactly sure what I like about it either. But I guess…" Her lips tightened as her gaze narrowed. "That you're here has something to do with it."

Grinning at him, she grasped for some sense of levity, but the ghost of her earlier grief shadowed the look in her eyes. "No matter what else, you're alive and well, so my relief might be coloring at least part of my perception of the place."

Stars knew that if he had truly been dead… No, she couldn't think of that anymore. It was a darkness so wretched it put to shame her role as the so-called hero who had overcome despair itself.

She'd thought herself beyond such self-doubt by now, and yet in that brief window of time thinking him gone, she'd felt as if she was on the verge of proving herself a liar and fraud - of becoming the proof of Fandaniel's and the Endsinger's so-called truth.

Too swiftly to stop herself her hand reached out to grab his, reminding herself he was here. There was no need for any more of those thoughts.

"You know I'm never letting you out of my sight again, right?" She made an effort to joke, but the laughter in her throat was strained beneath the weight of truth in her words.

His brows were subtly raised, eyes lowered to where her hand was clasped over his, and he could not help but to marvel at how much smaller it was now. Those strong, calloused hands that shielded the stars from peril time and time again, seemed somehow… more fragile - even if he knew otherwise.

"It did cross my mind you would think that way." The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he looked up at her again, shifting their hands to take hers between both of his.

Yes, how many times had he left her side and been met with blades at his neck, or spirited away to distant worlds. He'd had plenty of time to lament the pains he'd caused her… To imagine how he might one day make amends.

"Don't blame yourself, Ahru. I chose every step I took."

This time her attention fell to their hands, and similarly she made the same observation: how much bigger his were now. Gloved and warm, they easily encompassed hers. It ached to know how much time had been taken from him… Or, rather… From them.

She sighed and squeezed her fingers around his. "You always were stubborn."

"I daresay it's why we've always gotten on so well."

As they continued to speak the heaviness gradually passed. What news she had to offer could be summed up in under half a bell, he had far more to share with her. It would take much longer for him to share all the things he'd seen and experienced, but there was no hurry now.

Still, he spoke of the friends he'd made, and the work he'd done. How he first met Cahciua, and how she drank him under the table as part of his 'initiation' to Oblivion. How he'd volunteered with the hunters and the reforgers, or the years he'd spent struggling with his identity after he'd become 'Kyanite'.

He spoke of the difficulty watching how quickly some could cast aside their past to embrace the life Alexandria offered them. He could scarcely fault them for it, and yet…

"It felt as if any hope of one day reuniting with what we'd lost slipped further and further away, each time someone put on a regulator, or moved from Yyasulani into Everkeep." He sighed and shook his head. "But people cannot be expected to put their lives on hold indefinitely."

"What about you?" She asked rather abruptly. It had been bubbling beneath the surface, and she'd been trying to keep it down until she felt more comfortable broaching it, but it burst out all on it's own along with her nervous energy.

It felt like something he'd have brought up by now, or otherwise broached, yet instead it seemed like something he was avoiding speaking of.

"I mean… Almost thirty years." Oh, stop. Stop. Internally she was kicking and screaming at herself to quit before she embarrassed herself, but each word came tripping out over the one before it in quick succession now. "What I mean to say is, many seem to have found solace in… finding loved ones and starting families. Surely you've-"

"Surely?" The word snapped out with an incredulousness that -thankfully- cut her off from babbling any further, but the look he gave her of confusion and almost indignation all but shamed her.

For a too-long moment they sat staring at one another, grappling with the weight of a million unsaid things, and thirty years of separation. For him. A mere few days for her. How did one navigate that gulf in perception? She was trying, and yet… Perhaps she'd overstepped.

"Ahru." He shifted towards her and started again, speaking soft and slow, the weight of each word drowning out all else. "Surely- Surely you must know how I feel for you." It ought to have been a distant memory for him, yet he didn't speak in the past tense. "How I have always felt about you."

Her stomach knotted. Yes… She wasn't so foolish not to have realized after all the time they'd spent together. But she had only recently begun to really understand and accept it. He had had three decades to do so, and there was something a little overwhelming about that to her…

His shoulders tensed as he drew one of her hands up to his chest, his hand tight around hers.

"Perhaps I am too changed, too unfamiliar to you now, but my feelings have ever remained the same." Then his words slowed, as if he struggled to speak them. "If that's… too difficult for you, I would understand. But please, never doubt the affections my heart harbors have e'er been yours and yours alone." After a breath a dry, incredulous laugh shook him, with just a hint of amused bitterness. "How else could I ever love another, having loved you?"

She'd wanted to stop him part way through, but words had well and truly escaped her, and by the last of what he'd said she wasn't sure she'd find them again. She'd had her spirit flung out of her body on several occasions, but this might have been the first time there was no imminent peril accompanying the sensation.

It had never crossed his mind. Why would it? He loved her, and that pure and simple truth alone was all he needed in the cold span of the intervening years. The full realization shook her down to the core.

The little girl left behind by her parents, friends, lovers, time and time again… The little fool who looked for love and fled at the first sign of it… The insatiable wanderer, the candle burning at both ends. Who would ever, in their right mind, wait for her?

Her awareness slowly drew back to her body when her vision blurred with the warmth and weight of tears threatening to fall. This was the overwhelming feeling that had rendered her speechless, that shifted reality around her. The immensity of his love dwarved her fears and insecurities, and she struggled to put down the final vestiges of resistance in the face of something she could no longer deny - and that she deeply did not want to.

No, he was not the same young man she'd known just a few, simple days ago. Yes, he was the same person she'd fallen in love with over the years, as enchantingly slow as a leaf falling from the branch. Twirling weightless, helpless to the whims of the breeze and the ultimate, inexorable pull of gravity.

"Ahru…?"

"Uh… Huh?"

His form was blurry, but she could see the worry in his face. The same worry she'd seen years ago in the Stone Vigil, which he quickly concealed with snarky remarks. The same she'd seen after she'd defeated Ravana, or at the top of Sohm Al, or after Zenos had struck her down, or - untold countless times. The same gentle concern in those soft blue eyes.

"I apologize, perhaps that was… too much. We've been up here for a while now, and it has been a lot to take in. You needn't-"

"Alphinaud."

It was not lost on her the split-second pause. He still wasn't used to anyone saying his name.

"Yes?"

Taking in a deep breath she exhaled slowly as she turned towards him, placing her hands on either side of his face.

"Just give me a moment."

His expression tensed comically, his lower lip over-compensating in trying to keep a straight face, and instead landing him somewhere in the territory of a 'sheepish, stubborn pout'. Yes, though his features had aged, the much beloved familiarities remained strong.

And when she smiled at that thought, he eased as well.

"Of course. Take as long as you need."

The corners of her eyes crinkled as her smile widened, her heart feeling light and airy. "No, I don't think I'll keep you waiting too much longer."

[yuurei20]

Would you mind giving short summaries of everyone's book 7 dreams? I haven't seen anyone compile them all yet. If this is too much, kindly ignore!

( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 💕

Dream summaries are complete! Thank you for this new series idea ^^

Starting with Lilia, which was difficult to put into a "short" summary 💦 If you prefer a more concise summarization there is an ongoing "book 7 synopsis" series on twstnote! Here are chapters 56 to 100, covering Lilia's dream:

For a closer focus on just Lilia's dream itself (without Silver and Sebek's side adventures), here we are!

--

Malleus sends all of Sage’s Island to sleep in Book 7 so that they might enjoy “unending happiness,” “without sorrow, where you will never lose a single person—not friends, not family.”

Despite how Lila was the person whom Malleus was attempting to save, for Lilia alone this turns into a dream world where Malleus is unable to enforce his own rule of “without sorrow,” resulting in a recreation of the Human/Fae war of 400 years ago where he served as General of the Right of Brarland’s royal guard (more: the rules of the dreams / why Lilia’s dream was sad).

In the dream Briarland—as it was known before it was reduced to Briar Valley—has been invaded by humans who are cutting down the forests, laying waste to the mountains and plundering the resources through illegal mining, driving direbeasts into fae villages.

Lilia’s task in his dream is possibly a role that he filled in the real world: to deliver a letter from Princess Maleanor warning the humans to cease their ill-mannered conduct, search for delegates that have gone missing, and expel the human soldiers who are mining fae lands without having received permission to do so.

Lilia initially refuses to allow the group of Silver, Sebek, Grim and the prefect to join his troops, only acquiescing once Silver and Sebek manage to knock of his mask in a fight.

During their journey they come across personal belongings of missing Briarland envoys and do battle with human soldiers. While they do reach the citadel where they are to deliver their letter it is revealed to have been rigged with a trap that gives Lilia what is possibly a near-fatal wound when he rescues Silver, the human troops gone to besiege the castle of the fae princess, Maleanor, while Lilia was away.

Lilia’s remaining troops return to Maleanor where she greets Lilia by striking him repeatedly with lightning and refuses to heed his advice and retreat, commanding him to escape with her unborn child while she distracts the human troops.

Lilia refuses her heed her orders despite how she strikes both him and her egg with lightning to force his obedience, begging her to flee with him: “What am I to do if I lose both Raverne and you?”

Maleanor says that Lilia is to hatch her egg in her stead if she does not return despite how dragon eggs can only be hatched by their parents’ magic and affection. Lilia claims that he knows nothing of parental affection and has never loved anyone and Maleanor reveals that this is untrue: he loved both her and Raverne, her husband, making it impossible for him to not love their child.

Maleanor has Lilia dragged forcibly from the castle, and when he insists on going back to her Baul (Sebek’s grandfather) convinces him to press on for the sake of saving the heir.

Their evacuation is interrupted by the Dawn Knight, who recognizes both Lilia and the egg he carries and still saves him from collapsing rubble, telling him to flee before he is spotted.

Lilia and Baul are pursued by human troops, with Baul volunteering to hold back a group of at least 15 soldiers on his own, despite Lilia’s protests: “It’s your head and the egg they want--neither of which we can let these wretched creatures have.”

Lilia is still captured by human soldiers, saved from imminent execution by Silver. Lilia attempts to sacrifice himself for Silver to take the egg on alone but Silver refuses, carrying Lilia on his back to the capital.

They are joined again by Baul and Sebek, and upon reaching the castle Lilia declares his intent to return to Maleanor, but then it is revealed that the princess has died, presumably slain by the Dawn Knight.

Briarland’s senate blames Lilia for her death, shaming him for failing to protect her and insulting him for being a useless “dirty bat” and banishing him from the capital despite Baul’s attempts to defend him. Lilia resigns from his post and Malleus is taken away from him. 

Lilia says, “There’s no place for me here anymore…no one left to protect,” his despair drawing darkness that swallows him. 

In a continuation of the dream and/or flashback we see Lilia called to the castle by Queen Maleficia 10 years later, in secret, as Malleus is refusing her magic infusions and is in danger of dying if a solution cannot be found. Lilia travels the world at Maleficia’s behest (communicated through Baul) to search for a way to hatch Malleus, despite how fae seem to be violently unwelcome in human cities, as “foul monsters.”

Lilia periodically visits the egg, which periodically accepts magic.

After finding an unspecified location that took him years to reach Lilia’s unique magic manifests: the ability to see the memories of objects.

While the place where Lilia is at this point in the dream is not named, it is an identical background that appeared during Spectral Soiree: a location in the spectral realm called “Sleepless Castle.”

According to Silver, Lilia traveled to the spectral realm because “his work once led him to the border between life and death,” but it is not specified if Lilia’s visit to the spectral realm and the place where he discovered his unique magic in his efforts to hatch Malleus are connected.

Over time Lilia comes across humans who do not react with violence or anger upon realizing he is fae, telling Malleus that there are fewer people who throw stones at him, and there is a lot he wants to show Malleus when he is born.

Lilia receives a sudden communication from Baul saying that Malleus may not survive until the next full moon, as he has stopped accepting the queen’s magic for three months, his heartbeat has weakened and anyone who approaches him gets repelled by intense lightning strikes.

Lilia alone is capable of hearing Malleus crying inside of his egg and goes to him despite the lightning strikes, realizing that Malleus is lonely. Lilia offers up his magic and his life and Malleus finally hatches, will Silver observing that it was the happiest moment in Lilia’s life.

The senate appears and begins to praise Lilia for his efforts, calling him a hero, at which point Lilia begins to wake up due to the contrast with reality, where he was actually abused for daring to touch the royal heir, with Malleus again taken away from him.

With his in-dream birth Malleus is able to manifest in Lilia’s dream and reveals he was never told any of the sacrifices that Lilia made for him, and Lilia fully awakens.

Lilia sends the group of Silver, Sebek, Grim and the prefect away in order to distract Malleus alone.

(This summary is also available on twstnote!)

[lifechanyuan]

Chasing the Climax: Embrace a Brilliant Life

Xuefeng

This is my life—a mighty river surging forward, flowing endlessly, rushing toward the vast blue ocean. No matter how high the mountains or how distant the road, I roar, sweep, and charge ahead, churning up waves upon waves, fearless and undaunted by the perilous journey.

An exciting life is like this—radiating the brightest light, blooming the most beautiful flowers, spreading the sunshine and rain of love, and showcasing the most splendid qualities of humanity. Clearing thorns, crossing mountains, wading through rivers, and braving wind and rain to realize the grandest and most magnificent dreams. If there is a path, I will walk it; if not, I will carve a bright trail, whether my sweat soaks the earth or my blood stains rivers, lakes, and seas. No matter how winding and arduous the road, no matter the wolves, tigers, demons, or monsters that lie ahead, as long as I breathe, I will forge ahead without ceasing.

I reject a life consumed by petty desires, haunted by hunger and cold, anxious over food and drink, clinging to comfort, and indulging in meaningless pleasures. I refuse to squander my days in idleness, meditating endlessly, and losing myself in the pursuit of wealth, lust, fame, and profit. I reject a life wasted on futile thoughts of attaining enlightenment, suppressing my nature, stifling my true self, or retreating into a miserable lair, confined to the narrow vision of a well-dweller in a sesame-sized world. Steering with the wind without discernment, forever unable to distinguish good from evil. Calculating personal gain and loss with "cleverness" that only obstructs the way. Scattered and aimless, flitting about low hills lit by a feeble candlelight. No! I refuse such a life! Absolutely not!

On my path, there is no failure—failure belongs only to those who abandon their ideals and lose heart. In my future, there is no darkness—darkness belongs to those who do not pursue light. My prospects are endlessly bright because the Greatest Creator is right before me. My companions, thousands in number, stand resilient and determined, led to my side by Christ and Buddha.

Do not judge me as poor because my clothes are tattered. Wisdom and perseverance are my inexhaustible sources of wealth. Do not call me uneducated or shallow because I lack formal degrees—I have read countless pages of the book of heaven without words written by heaven. Do not judge me as destitute or doomed because I appear to have nothing. Together with the Celestials of Lifechanyuan, I will build humanity’s most glorious palace in history. Do not consider me weak because my body seems frail—I carry within me an unstoppable force that surges ahead with invincibility!

I will shatter the old and broken relics to forge a radiant paradise for humanity with new thoughts and methods. Though the road is long and the journey unending, I will search tirelessly. Amidst the winds and rains, I will light the divine lamp to guide my way. Traversing the vast unknown, I will look to the future. With unyielding determination, I will walk my path, never regretting, never faltering, moving forward with boundless courage.

Honesty is my nature; resilience is my character. I speak the truth and do not lie. I never strike from the shadows. I adorn the mountains and rivers with love and warm the cold hearts of the world with sincerity. Even if for just a moment, I will blaze like lightning across the dark night sky. Even if a mere wisp of cloud, I will refract a brilliant rainbow. Even in the faintest breath, I will dance a passionate tango on the edge of death. Even when facing cliffs and precipices, I will leap, climb, and traverse them with all my strength.

I do not believe in an unchangeable destiny. I will grasp the rudder of life firmly in my own hands. Even if all is predestined, I will fully utilize the heavenly nature bestowed upon me by the Greatest Creator. Time flies like an arrow; I will not waste my life. With limited days ahead, how can I squander the precious gift of life? There are always greater mountains and higher heavens beyond what we see—how can I confine my vision to what lies within my sight? If the mountains do not turn, the rivers will; if the land route is blocked, the waterways remain open. If the East is dark, the West will shine; if the South is blackened, the North is still bright. How can I let the potholes before me hinder my flexible thinking?

Health, abundance, and freedom are the life I pursue. Joy, happiness, and contentment must fill the path of my life. I will not emulate Zhuangzi's solitary wandering but instead follow Buddha’s compassion, sharing blessings like bees rather than feasting selfishly like predators. I will stand alongside my brothers and sisters, overcoming hardships together and sharing joy, spreading love and kindness along the way.

To live is to live fully! Life is but a dream, fleeting and empty—so let me embrace it without regret!

Run toward the climax and embrace a brilliant life!

[donovannovak]

Donovan Novak - Echoing Shadows [6.3]

Silence.

A poignant presence amidst the chaos of Heritage Found. Beasts roamed below, locked in their eternal struggles, their growls and roars a constant backdrop. Thunder rumbled, an unending drumbeat above. Lightning crackled relentlessly, striking the electric nodes that fed the land’s energy. The tension that hung in the air seemed heavier here, and at the edge of the cliff where two souls stood, bound by the weight of dread.

Donovan’s hand would slowly lower, but his gaze stayed fixed on hers, as if the world around them had momentarily ceased to exist. A charged bolt suddenly struck a pit of molten electrope in the distance, the light from the explosion illuminating their faces in a blinding flash. The intensity of the strike cast shadows across Donovan's face, yet he didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable. That, more than anything, made her heart skip.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid words, as she tried to read his face. But he remained still, distant. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned his gaze away and moved toward the ledge. With slow, deliberate steps, he began his descent, his hands gripping the rocks with careful ease.

The tension in her chest tightened, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. There was something about the way he moved, almost as if the weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty—was pulling him down, not just physically but emotionally. Her stomach twisted with unease, her breath catching in her throat as she hesitated.

Her eyes never left him as they climbed down together. When their feet finally touched solid ground, the tension in the air didn’t dissipate—it only thickened, like the fog that still clung to the land. The silence lingered between them, as if neither of them could find the words to speak, the weight of the journey ahead pressing in on them both.

Every movement felt dense, as though the air itself was resisting their progression, pushing against them with every step. The weight of the moment hung heavily, pressing in on them, almost as if the very land was reluctant to let them move forward. Her eyes never left him, the concern etched deeply on her face, each glance a silent question—What are you feeling? What are you thinking?

She watched him carefully as he made his way over a narrow gap, his movements deliberate, like the pull of the cemetery ahead was the only thing that mattered to him now. A deep exhale escaped her as she followed suit behind him, the tension in her chest never quite subsiding. She would rather not get too close, not wanting to crowd him, but his presence was an unspoken tether, a reminder that she was right there with him. As she stepped over the same gap, her hand brushed the cold stone of the cliffside for balance.

In the distance, a few Eyeclops lumbered through the fields, their heavy steps shaking the earth beneath them. They paid no mind to Donovan and Tsch as they passed, their dull, unblinking eyes indifferent to their presence. It was as though these creatures were mere fixtures in this forsaken landscape, unmoved by the travelers, as lifeless as the dead trees surrounding them.

The over-saturated grass crunched beneath their feet, the sound as hollow as the trees that stood in silent witness. Each step seemed to echo the land’s decay, an ever-present reminder that this place existed in a suspended state, neither truly alive nor dead. The fog, which had once clung tightly to the land, finally began to part as they entered the cemetery. The purple hues of the Archeo Alexandria loomed over the graveyard, painting the clouds in sickly shades, casting a macabre light over the silent tombstones.

His head turned towards the west, and he let his feet carry him in that direction, ignoring the many tombstones that circled a dilapidated statue—an eerie, lifeless electric node. His fingers grazed some of the erected graves, lingering on a few of them, before he slowly made his way to a particular set. He stopped before them, his face unreadable. The weight of it all pressed into him as a soft breeze brushed against his cheek, pushing strands of hair from his eyes.

"...Hey, Mom... Dad..."

The words slipped from his lips, quiet and heavy. The sound of his voice caused Tsch’s eyes to widen, but she remained silent as she approached him from behind. She stood steady, keeping a respectful distance as she processed the gravity of the moment. "This was why…" The thought crashed into her mind, understanding now the source of his fear. The same fear that had gripped him when they climbed the cliff, the one she hadn’t fully understood until now.

The somberness of the atmosphere wrapped around them like a heavy blanket, pressing in as Tsch watched Donovan collapse, almost as if the weight of the past had become too much to bear. He sank slowly to the ground, sitting before the graves, and for a moment, his shoulders seemed to slump under an invisible burden. His hand brushed over the weathered stone, the names nearly illegible, worn away by time.

He spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid even the air would judge him. "I've missed you both… I'm sorry I didn’t get to visit as much." The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and sorrow, and though his gaze remained fixed on the graves, a tremor ran through him. "I was only eight years old," he started. "We didn't have much, but it was enough for me. They told me they were going to go hunt…" His voice trailed off, the memory too painful to continue.

The shiver in his fingers returned as he continued to speak, his voice a little higher pitched. "Yet they never came back. I found them by the water’s edge, mangled… torn apart." Tsch listened intently but kept her distance behind him, giving him space. She hadn’t known this was a weight he carried even into his death—a child, forced to witness such a thing. "We couldn’t afford regulators, meaning that if we died… there was no second chance."

No second chance. No memories erased. Nothing. Such a heavy burden to carry. To witness.

Before she could speak, she heard the sound—soft at first, a stifled sniffle, followed by a crack in his voice. Then, the dam broke. The sobs racked his body, and tears poured from his eyes. His cries filled the cemetery, raw and desperate, as he buried his face in his hands. The sound of his weeping echoed through the heavy air, amplifying the sorrow that hung thick between them.

"Why? Why me? Why did I ever have to see such a thing!? I was only eight years old..." His voice trembled with every word, a plea for answers he would never find. It broke her heart to hear it. His pain, so pure, so devastating. She couldn't bear the thought of him shouldering that kind of weight, and yet she knew the feeling.

The deep thump in her chest drowned out any hesitation, any thought of distance. She reached out, hesitantly, her hand moving slowly as if she were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. She patted his head gently, tenderly. Her fingers, soft against his hair, ran through the strands, a silent act of comfort, offering him warmth and a fleeting sense of safety. She didn’t say anything. Words felt unnecessary, trivial in comparison to the depth of his pain.

Her head tilted slightly, her gaze never leaving him as he cried. His face was hidden from her, but she could feel the storm he was enduring, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. After a long moment, his body shifted. Slowly, cautiously, he raised his head to look at her, his eyes swollen and red from crying. Her fingers never stopped their motion, their soft strokes moving rhythmically, an anchor in the midst of his turmoil.

His eyes searched hers—there was no judgment, no pity, just understanding. Her face was calm and steady, a quiet acceptance of his pain. There was something about the silence between them, the absence of words, that seemed to settle his nerves. He closed his eyes again, surrendering to the simple solace of her touch, as if it were the only thing holding him together. Letting his tears run in this softness.

Time stretched, each second feeling like an eternity, until finally, Donovan slowly stood. His movements were stiff, each step heavier than the last, as though every motion drained him further. He towered over her now, his posture exhausted, but his eyes softened—almost puppy-like in their vulnerability. There was an unspoken plea in his gaze, a depth of emotion that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil.

Then, with a gentle breeze that seemed to soften the atmosphere around them, her hand moved from his head to rest on his pinky. It was a small gesture, delicate and unassuming. Her touch was a reminder—quiet and strong—that she was there, and she wouldn’t leave.

"I'm sorry—" His words faltered, choked by the weight of his emotions, as she gently tugged at his pinky. "Do not," she interrupted softly, her voice steady but unwavering. "Do not apologize, Donovan. It’s okay to feel these things. To feel sadness. To cry. It doesn’t make you weak, and I don’t see you as such. And neither should you."

Hearing her words, the silent relief that washed over him felt like the first breath of fresh air after drowning. His pinky slipped free from her grasp, and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. The suddenness of the embrace caught her off guard, and her breath hitched, but she relaxed quickly, her arms responding instinctively, holding him as tightly as he held her.

His grip tightened, and he buried his face deeper into her neck, a tremor in his breath betraying the weight of what he was feeling. She could feel the shiver in his body, but she also felt the warmth of his presence, the way he clung to her as if she was his anchor in this storm. She rubbed his back through the thick jackets, the fabric familiar and grounding. He whispered softly into her skin, his voice now quieter, more serene. "This is helping..."

"I'm glad..." she whispered back, the words a quiet release of her own. She would rather not let go, but more than anything, she felt a deep sense of relief. He was slowly beginning to calm, his breath evening out, and she was there—steadfast, a silent promise of support.

"Thank you, Tsch. Truly." Before she could comment that thanks wasn’t necessary, he let go and gently pulled back. The air around him had shifted. Something was different now. The weight that had always clung to him—heavy, dark—had lightened. It was no longer suffocating, no longer pressing in so tightly.

"You're welcome, Donovan," she whispered, her voice steady and quiet, like a promise. The distant crack of lightning striking a node pierced the air, but still, he didn’t flinch. His gaze remained on her, unwavering. She watched as his shoulders relaxed, the tension in his body slowly melting away. The fear that had gripped him, the fear that had been so palpable before, seemed to dissipate like mist in the morning sun.

Her eyes widened slightly at the change, but she kept silent, unsure whether to comment, lest the fragile peace break. "We still need to get to the Feral Hunters Organization," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, unsure, then continued, "...and yet I'm still scared to confront them." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his unease. Just as the fear she believed to have disappeared, it still lingered.

Without thinking, he reached for her hand. Her fingers slipping between his, offering the comfort he needed without a word. "I'm still scared to hear what they have to say," he added, his voice soft, almost vulnerable in its admission. Tsch tilted her head slightly, studying him with a tenderness that seemed to ease the last of his walls. Her thumb brushed against his knuckles, soothing him in a quiet, unspoken way.

"And yet, you're still here," she murmured, her voice thick with admiration. "Even though you're scared, you're not running. You're confronting this. And for that, I'm proud of you, Donovan. Proud that you're challenging your fears, step by step." Internally, she knew she would remain by his side through it all. Words weren’t needed.

Seeing him face his fears, taking each step despite the weight of them, stirred something within her—a feeling that was hidden but slowly rising to the surface. She tried to brush it away, unwilling to acknowledge it just yet. "No matter the answers you get, just know that you made it here, and you got them. You're stronger than you think, Donovan."

As her words left her lips, she slowly slipped her fingers from his, the action gentle but deliberate, as if giving him space to process everything. "I—yeah. Thank you, Tsch. I feel like the word ‘thanks’ may not be enough," he murmured, the weight of his feelings behind the words. He knew, deep down, that those simple words couldn’t truly express what he felt. With the smallest of smiles, he nodded his head. "Well, let's get those answers."

The steps he took out of the graveyard alongside Tsch felt lighter, as though a weight had been lifted. There was a new sense of purpose now, one that wasn't clouded by the terror of this place. Slowly, the place of his parents' rest grew farther away as they made their way over a hill. The outskirts of Archaeo Alexandria came into view, looming in the distance like a silent reminder of the journey still ahead.

Donovan tugged the collar of his jacket a bit tighter as the wind picked up. After a moment of silence, he spoke up softly, his voice thoughtful. "You know, after my parents’ death, I was moved into an orphanage." Tsch turned her head toward him, curiosity evident in her expression. She shook her head slightly, signaling she hadn't known. "Yeah. I was a small kid too, about five ilms tall. Possibly a bit taller than you."

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked him up and down, clearly struggling to picture him at such a size. "I know, it doesn’t seem that way with how I look now, but I was that small and skinny too." The thought of him so tiny like her made her let out a quiet chuckle. It wasn’t mocking laughter, but a gentle realization of how far he’d come.

"The living conditions weren't good, so I didn’t hit a growth spurt until I was 18 and joined the Feral Hunters Organization." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Now I feel like a giant." He glanced over at Tsch, catching the small chuckle she hadn’t quite hidden. It made him smile softly. "I can’t imagine you being around my height, but you've grown. Clearly," she said, looking up at him with a fondness that warmed him, making the air feel a little less heavy.

"I did grow, physically." His voice softened at the last word, the weight of it lingering. "Emotionally, I think I still have a long way to go." A dark shadow crossed his face as memories flooded back—harsh words, cruel laughter, and the sting of isolation. A deep sigh escaped him as he shook his head, trying to ground himself back in the present, to focus on the now.

As they reached a dip in the hill, the abandoned city grew closer, its silence palpable in the air. The Defective Aerostats hovered slowly in the distance, their patrols erratic and unpredictable, like machines struggling to fulfill their forgotten purpose. Yet, despite their proximity, they paid no mind to Donovan and Tsch as they continued down the path. Donovan’s finger pointed toward the distant village, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight.

“On the outskirts of that village was the orphanage. 'Precious New Beginnings,' it was called,” he said, a slight bitterness in his tone. “Didn’t really seem that way, though.” A deep sigh left him as the words left his lips, and for a moment, the air between them thickened. “Can I ask why?” Tsch’s curiosity only grew. She slowed her pace, a gentle gesture that seemed to coax him to follow her lead. He did, but his steps felt heavier now, as if the weight of his memories was sinking in.

"I didn’t like it," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "The other kids—they'd pick on me for everything. Tease me. Bully me for doing anything." He stopped walking, his gaze distant, falling somewhere beyond the town’s edge. As he spoke, the fog began to creep up around them, thickening in the distance like a reflection of his thoughts. Tsch could feel the weight in the air, a heaviness that grew with each passing second.

"I liked drawing a lot. They hated that," he continued, his voice tight with the memory. "Said it wasn’t manly, which always led to fights. I didn’t fit in, and it only made things worse." His gaze dropped to the ground, his eyes darkening as he kicked a rock with more force than intended. The sound echoed, distant and hollow, like the way he felt in that moment.

"Living there was absolute hell," he admitted softly, eyes still downcast. "But the only peace I could find was when I climbed the bell tower in the center of town, just to draw. To be alone. To be away from everything." He paused, inhaling deeply, as if trying to steady himself. "It was the only time I could breathe... the only time I didn’t feel like I was suffocating."

Seeing the tension growing within him, something inside of her urged her to reach out. But she understood, in that quiet moment, that it might not be what he needed right now. The air between them thickened, filled with unspoken words. After a long silence, she finally spoke, her voice steady yet soft, as if testing the weight of the moment.

"That was your escape, wasn’t it?" Her question was less of an inquiry and more of an observation. Donovan’s eyes remained fixed on the distant ruins of Archaeo Alexandria. His posture was rigid, but there was a sense of quiet longing in the way he held himself. The wind picked up, brushing through his hair, but he didn't seem to notice. His gaze remained unbroken.

"Yeah," he said after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was the only place where I could be myself... where no one could tell me what I was supposed to be." Another long pause followed, the silence almost suffocating between them. The sound of distant thunder rumbled across the sky, a crackling bolt of lightning piercing the clouds and striking an electric node far in the distance. For a brief moment, their faces were illuminated by the flash, but neither of them reacted—absorbed in their own thoughts, caught in the weight of the conversation.

"I just wanted some sense of normalcy," he continued, his words slipping out as though they had been held in for a long time. The air around them felt heavy, and Tsch couldn’t help but sense the exhaustion behind his words—the lingering pain he carried. Her gaze fell to his hands, which had slowly begun to ball into fists, the muscles tensing before loosening. His entire body seemed to be fighting against the weight of what he was feeling. She couldn’t help but ask, though she immediately realized how loaded her question was.

"Do you feel normal now?" The moment the question left her lips, she felt a pang of regret. It was an innocent question, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much to ask. Still, she couldn’t take it back. She waited, her heart quiet as she waited for his response. His eyes finally shifted to hers, and for a moment, she saw something hidden in them—an unspoken truth, a flicker of emotion that made her breath catch. His lips twitched slightly, a soft motion that betrayed the weight of what was passing through his mind. "...More than you know."

More than he was letting on. For once in his life, even when he was alive, he felt something different. The revival by her hands—something he was forever grateful for. It was more than just returning to life; it was a second chance at something he never dared to imagine. She had brought him into a world where colors held meaning, where laughter wasn’t directed at him but shared with him.

Even though he looked the way he did—green skin, stitched together in places—he felt, for the first time, truly normal. As if the marks of his past, the evidence of his resurrection, didn’t define him. They didn’t make him less than. He still felt wanted. Where his heart, though an electrope one, beat to its own rhythm, in tune with something he thought he'd lost forever. Where his feelings... they grew each and every day.

But even now, standing before her, he couldn’t speak those words. Not yet. There was too much left unsaid, too much he still wasn’t ready to share. His feelings weighed heavily on him, the words trapped in his chest like a knot that refused to loosen. He wanted to reassure her, to ease the concern he could feel rising within her, but without burdening her with the weight of his thoughts.

Before he could say anything, a sudden crash broke the stillness. Metal clanged against metal, followed by growls that ripped through the air, slicing through the fragile quiet. Their attention snapped to the source of the sound.

An aerostat lay sprawled across the ground, its body consumed by flames. The scent of burning metal hung in the air. And then, there was the figure—a man, tall in stature, his skin pale against the smoke-filled sky. His ears poked out from his peach hair, and in his hands, he wielded two dual swords. Sharp, well-used, and now slick with the remnants of battle.

The man wiped the dust from his face, his expression steely, before rising to his feet. He was towering and imposing, and his focus slowly shifted toward them. Tsch reacted immediately, stepping in front of Donovan, instinctively raising one hand to shield him while the other rested in front of her. Her brow furrowed, her face hardening with suspicion. She was ready, the air around her charged with an unspoken promise of protection.

"Hey! You two aren’t supposed to be out here! It’s dangerous!" The man’s voice was commanding, but his grip tightened on his weapons as he closed the distance between them, walking with slow, deliberate steps. His pace was measured, but there was an undeniable sense of urgency in his approach.

Donovan’s body stiffened, his gaze locked on the man in front of them, his heart pounding in his chest. At first, confusion gripped him, but that quickly morphed into something darker—fear. Recognition flickered in his eyes, his mouth parting slightly as the man’s presence grew clearer. "It can't be…" he mumbled, the words barely escaping his lips.

Tsch heard his whisper before she turned her head slightly, a ripple of uneasiness settling deep in her chest. Panic was written all over Donovan’s face, the raw fear emanating from him like a physical weight. "Who is this man to him?" she thought, confusion clouding her mind as she sensed his distress.

She could feel the tension thickening between them, and as the stranger slowly lowered his weapons, it felt like the world itself was holding its breath. The silence between the three stretched on, each second stretching longer than the last. Finally, the man spoke, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

"No... no, there's no way."

Donovan stood frozen, his body rigid, his feet seemingly glued to the ground. Tsch could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves, but she didn’t move, not wanting to interrupt the fragile moment. The stranger’s eyes swept over Donovan slowly, as if searching for something that made sense, but nothing did. His eyes narrowed, disbelief growing.

"...Donovan?"

Chapter 6 Part 4 Here

[tim-han-reviews]

Tim Han Success Insider: Become your own best friend and never spend another day in your mind in suffering or fear. 🧠❤️

Some years ago, I found myself stuck in a seemingly unending cyclone of negativity; until one day I realized an important aspect of my journey. The person I would spend the entire of my life with, was me. It struck me, like a lightning bolt across a clear sky - I needed to become my own best friend. Today, I encourage you to join me on this journey.

We often find ourselves in constant battle with our own minds. It’s filled with fear, doubt, and suffering, primarily because we're conditioned to be our own harshest critics. It's imperative to underline those aren’t your natural states of being. You possess the power to reprogram that conditioning. Yes, it's true. You can shed those layers of self-doubt and fear, and it starts from becoming your best ally.

Why should one be friendly with a fear-striking enemy, you wonder? Let me share an insightful event. I remember vividly a seminar by Success Insider, the company I am fortunate to lead. As I stood there watching hundreds of inspired faces, a quote by A. A. Milne flashed in my mind, “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

What a truth. Believe me when I say, you indeed are. The one surefire way to navigate the tempestuous seas of fear and self-doubt is to empower yourself. Embrace your inner strength and goodness. You need to develop a genuine friendship with yourself, a bond filled with respect, kindness, and understanding. So, how does one tread on this transformational path?

First, it's about self-awareness. Observe your thoughts and emotions. Feel them, understand them, don’t push them away. Remember this, every emotion you experience is valid. By observing them, you give them a space to exist and to be understood and then, they no longer feel threatening or overwhelming.

Secondly, assume the driver’s seat. You get to decide who gets the power over you, and just as you won’t let a destructive friend rule your life, same goes for the torrent of negative thoughts in your mind. Feed your mind positivity and it shall reciprocate. Reflect on this: What's one positive affirmation you've believed in the past that you should start believing again right now?

Similar to the LMA course I designed, there's a strategic element involved in mastering self-compassion and self-love too. I learned so much from the real-life experiences shared by the participants. Each of their stories was a testament that the mind is a trainable entity.

It's not an overnight job, it takes patience, persistence, and a lot of unlearning and relearning. But, as the embodiment of the quote “Every journey begins with a single step,” irrespective of the pace, the journey is worth taking.

Investing in self-care activities, practicing mindfulness and gratitude, or even a simple exercise of looking into the mirror and acknowledging your worth, can be incredibly rewarding. The echoes of self-love drown the chatter of self-doubt. So wouldn't it be wonderful to be your greatest cheerleader, your own guiding light?

Along this journey, visualize the best version of yourself. Not Tim Han or any other person you admire, but you, in all of your magnificence. Practice speaking to yourself as you would want your best friend to do. Your language towards yourself should reflect compassion and empathy.

In the end, success, as I've always believed, is becoming the true person you really are. Allowing yourself to experience emotions, might they be fear, joy, sorrow, or excitement, because that's what makes you human, and yes, human is beautiful. So tell me, are you ready to embark on this journey of love, tenderness, and friendship towards yourself, starting today?

Remember, only when you become your own best friend, will life cease to be a battlefield, turning into a playground instead. Embrace the art of self-love and make life your masterpiece.

[mariyahysabelle]

Discovering Peace and Purpose Through Life's Pressures

It's been four months since I embarked on this journey in Luzon, and wow, what a ride it has been! From the exhilarating highs to the challenging lows, the pressures and pains to the moments of excitement and disappointment, this experience has been nothing short of a rollercoaster.

Lately, I've been grappling with the idea of resigning, feeling that it might be the only way to escape the mounting work pressure and personal frustrations. The daily grind has been relentless, each day bringing its own set of challenges that seem to build upon the last. The weight of every task and expectation has been pressing down on me, leaving me feeling overwhelmed and unsure.

One week in particular stands out in my memory. The stress from a major project seemed unending, and despite my best efforts, I felt like I was falling short. My patience was wearing thin, and the pressure began seeping into my personal life, creating a storm of anxiety and frustration.

During this tough time, I had a heartfelt conversation with a colleague who had faced similar struggles. Over the phone, we shared our experiences, and her own journey through these challenges added a layer of melancholy. She spoke of her own decision to resign and move on, even offering to bring me along. Her words served as a reminder that I was not alone in this struggle.

Simultaneously, a friend who was in constant touch with me reached out with comforting verses and words of encouragement. Knowing I was going through a rough patch, he sent messages of hope and strength. His support was like a gentle hand on my shoulder, offering comfort when I felt most vulnerable. While his kindness provided temporary relief, the underlying frustrations continued to resurface.

It was during a moment of deep reflection that I began to realize resigning might not be the answer. Instead, I needed to address the root of my frustrations. One evening, while chatting with my boarding mate during dinner, he offered impactful advice: “Don’t expect everything to be handed to you; be thankful for the opportunity and the experiences you gain. When it comes to work, just do your part and give your best.” His words made me pause and reflect on why I took this job in the first place.

These conversations helped me see that while the challenges were real, they also presented opportunities for growth. In the end, I understood that seeking resignation was a temporary fix, but learning to navigate and overcome these challenges was a more enduring solution. The journey was not just about finding an escape but about finding the strength to face and rise above the difficulties. With the support of those who truly understood and cared, I realized I had the resources within me to turn these trials into opportunities for growth and resilience.

Suddenly, like a lightning strike, I remembered the day I lay in bed, sick all day, praying to God and surrendering everything to the Almighty. It was December 31st, and I was fasting, asking God for a job. I had become so anxious, especially since I hadn’t found work after a month of unemployment. I recall how hard I cried that day, pouring out all my worries.

I also recall traveling with my friend to General Santos to take an exam. The memory is still vivid—the conviction of humility I felt while riding on the bus, like a whisper deep within my soul saying, "Humble." And another voice, so comforting and loving, whispered, "Wherever you go, I will always be there for you." That peaceful conviction filled me with happiness.

Then I remembered the conversation I had with a friend at Lantaw Marbel. He asked me if this was truly what I wanted, and I said, "Yes." And the last moment with my best friend at the 7/11 convenience store—it was so profound, a moment of truth and wholeness. That bond, the friendship, everything we shared, is something I will miss the most.

I also remembered the night when Kuya shared with me his thoughts. He didn’t fully agree with my choices and asked if I was truly happy. I replied, “Yes.” It was hard for me to leave that moment because I knew Kuya was saddened by the idea of us leaving, and deep down, I felt the same. But in the end, Kuya shared a message filled with wisdom, along with a lesson I learned from his wife—both of which I will always carry with me wherever I go.

Then, Ate Jen and her husband Kuya gave me something that truly moved my heart. I also treasure Ate Neneng, who always knew my story and wanted to know everything about me. I love her so much, and I know I’ll never find someone like her. She gave me something I still treasure, and to this day, we stay in touch.

As for my childhood best friend, we didn’t have a final conversation. I think he withdrew for a while because of things that weren’t meant to be said, but now, we’re okay.

Similarly, I remembered the blessings from loved ones before I left, the meaningful conversations with close friends, and the unwavering support from my family, especially my mother.

Deep within, I felt a calling to this path. While it’s natural to express frustrations, it's also a chance to reaffirm what’s right and true, standing firm despite the challenges. I recall a moment when I was in the car unwinding after a particularly rough day. The sun was setting, and the wind was blowing, and in that quiet space, I began to question everything. As I sat there, I recalled the word humbleness.

Despite the struggles, I've glimpsed the beauty and grace of Jesus throughout this journey. From the high cost of living to workplace hurdles, I’m continuously reminded of how blessed I am. I'm grateful for the people who supported me and for the encouragement to “be blessed and be a blessing.”

Pressure is inevitable, but overcoming these challenges here will equip me for future endeavors. Just as we learn to manage small problems, we must also handle larger ones with wisdom and grace.

My heart is full of love, joy, peace, and gratitude—a reflection of Jesus’ presence in my journey.

In this moment, I’m reminded of these powerful verses:  

Philippians 2:13: “For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”  

Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”  

1 Corinthians 10:31: “So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.”

Through all of this, I’ve seen that life’s challenges are not meant to break us but to shape us. Every trial, every frustration, and every moment of doubt serves a purpose. It’s in these moments that we grow stronger, more resilient, and more aligned with our true calling. The pressure we face today prepares us for the blessings and responsibilities of tomorrow.

When we trust in God’s plan, even when the path seems uncertain, we can find peace knowing that every step has meaning. We are never alone, and His grace is sufficient for every challenge we encounter. Let us embrace each moment, knowing that through the highs and lows, we are being refined and prepared for greater things.

Stay strong, keep the faith, and always remember: where there is struggle, there is also growth. Where there is hardship, there is also hope. And wherever you go, God will always be with you.

[captzexx]

Daily Writing Challenge

Day 3 - Autumn

Falconhurst was under siege.  

Again.  

The southern trading town seemed to be a magnet for the exiled remnant of the Heartsbane Coven,  though calling it a remnant was understatement with the growing raids of wicker beasts and abominations that stormed the barricaded port.  The squeals and silent roars of monsters from the depths of the red wood would charge the wooden walls as the defenders manned the defense with spear, fire, and shot.  Clawing and tearing to break through as men and women made repairs and fought back the monsters that had nearly wiped out the poor citizens of the city.  Despair crippled the people during those early days as the Coven near burned the city to ash but had come with silver, holy fire, and unyielding resolve.  It was one of the first victories for the Order of Embers.

It was only the beginning.

Cheryl Dunn gently pulled a twisted glass vial from the straw filled chest and nodded with approval seeing the familiar black and white chemicals so dangerously close to one another.  The woman was young for the Order, but just as anyone could be was a life filled with tragedy and loss at the hands of the cursed Coven that had taken their country.  A family lost, a home burned, sacrifices, and perhaps the final revenge for a life stolen.  Dirty blonde hair was tied back in a tail, while her face had been young and healthy was now lined with the stress and abrasions of war.  Josiah swore she would be as white haired as Proudmore by the end of the season, Cheryl had only made sure to point out his own receding hairline.

"Careful."  A grim voice warned.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and gently deposited the liquid fire back in it's safe home.  The woman let out a sigh, her head leaning back to knock against the barricade she found herself stationed behind waiting in that calm before the next storm.  "See anything?"

The grim voiced returned a grunt letting her know that so far it all was quiet on the Crimson front, exactly what she didn't want.  Or rather what she had not wanted before she was chosen by Tre Ur Steini, the large stone ax beside her pulsing softly with awakened Drust magic.  The ancient primitive malevolent weapon was always eager for combat, blood, and the upward unending battle.  It was a martyr's weapon.  Cheryl shivered slightly in the low afternoon light at the thought of what likely would be her end with the cursed thing, but there had been only one choice when it came to her and she would gladly take it again.  She looked up again to her commander and teacher, her eyes lingering on the older man with a reverence and slight fear most of the Order felt with him.

Eldridge Candell was now one of the longest serving second generation Inquisitors within the Order, having been one of the first to be sworn in after the fall of Waycrest Manor.  He was an Eastern Kingdomer, saying he was born in Stormwind before the First War and served many times for the human kingdoms in previous wars.  Grey thin hair topped his head with a weeks beard struggling on his scarred face, while sharp blue eyes were always watching and waiting in the silent danger of a real predator.  He was a killer, and everyone knew it.  Candell was never shy about answering questions or being afraid to talk about himself, but he hardly ever gave anything away for free.  What lines Cheryl had gained in her short journey as an Inquisitor, Eld looked to have been made of lightning strikes and scars from all manner of wound.  But he kept coming back.  He kept fighting.  He kept doing his job.  

"Harvest is going to be sour this year," Cheryl mentioned in an attempt to engage Eld.  A grunt was all she got in return.  Sighing she would lean back against the barricade and looked back to the ruined town of Falconhurst.  Would this port ever recover?  She would remember coming down here in the autumns with her family, bringing winter squash and pickled vegetables for sale.  There was a vendor who used to sell rock salt candy.

"Duun."  Cheryl came back with a start as she blinked awake and looked up to Eld who was now looking back toward the town.  It was one of the guards, Caruso she thought his name was as she struggled to get to her feet.  A calloused, strong hand would grab her by the forearm to steady her up to her feet and she nodded thanks to Eld as they watched the guard approach them.

"Inquisitor Candell?"  Caruso spoke with a hint of Sound to his accent, his helmet tilted back to clear his sight on the two.

"Aye."  Eld responded, as he let Cheryl go and took a step forward to the soldier.

"There's a raven for you, sir."

The old man nodded as he continued in his stride to him, calling over his shoulder to his apprentice.  "Hold the line, and light th.."

"The fire at the first sight of the pigmen.  I know, Eld.  Go answer your mail."  Cheryl finished his words with a slight smile to her face as she faced the looming red wood of the Crimson.  Candell never even looked back but she he was smiling in his thin way.  A black shadow loping after him seeming from no where as it padded along to walk beside him.

The steps of the rookery felt like they rose forever for Eld, his legs burning and back aching as he climbed up each set of stones.  He was tired.  For the last few weeks, the Coven, the Drusts, even the wild beasts of Drustvar had seemed to go into some kind of frenzy.  Death and destruction forever in their paths, the Order was struggling to keep up as it spread itself from here in Falconhurst all the way up into Stormsong and even a case or two in Boralus.  When it rains it pours, but the flood was drowning the farmers.  

A shaky weary sigh was let loose as he stopped a moment to catch his breath, his scarred hand twitching involuntarily as he closed his eyes to steady himself in the stairwell.  The few brief moments of closing his eyes was all his mind needed to conjure the horrors he and his fellow rangers had encountered in the last weeks.  Sacrifices, murders, and butchery that were far to reminiscent of the early days during Lucille Waycrest's hold on the land and the dark grip of the Thul.  The bloodied faces of a strung up pilgrim family floated in his minds eye from a week ago; the father, the mother, son and son.  Flayed to the bone and harvested in a fashion that thankfully caused his eyes to snap open with a soft gasp.

"Inquisitor?"  Caruso's voice spoke from behind him with concern which only brought aggravated shame to the older man.  A crack of knuckles as he squeezed a fist, before feeling a familiar rub to his leg and saw the silent face of Bandit staring up at him.  Midnight dark eyes met fiery blue and extinguished the rage rapidly bringing a wave of shame before reluctant understanding as to why he was this way.  He needed sleep and the damn dog knew it as much as him.  A gentle rub brought as much delight to the beast as it brought relief to Eld.

"Sorry, Caruso.  Think I'm just tired."

"I understand, it's been hell around here the last few days."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Why?  You didn't unleash this evil on us."  The guard stood patiently behind Eld that only felt to push the inquisitor up the last few sets of stairs to to the raven hold.  Eld took to the hint and began to rise up the steps again.

"I know, but I can sympathize with you."

"Oh.  Thank you."  Caruso said as they reached the final door, his hands fishing out the keys to open the door for him.  Safety had become paramount these days as spies came in all shapes and sizes in the Coven's attempts to finish off the free peoples of Drustvar.  "Do you think it will slow down?  Or get any better?"

Eld grimaced hard as he heard the younger man question him, the jangle of keys being the only excuse for him to keep his answer to himself.  They didn't need to hear the truth out loud.

The key slid into the first of four locks before the heavy clicks of iron resounded in the quiet tower before the final grunt and shove of the oak door.

"By the light."  Caruso gasped ahead as Eld watched him reaching for his sword with surprise but practiced ease.  The inquisitor took the last few steps two at a time as his shadow slid past the guard and into the room, the hound's stance wide head bowed but silent in his position.  Candell was not far behind him as he touched the guard on the back to alert him of his presence and they both followed into the top of the tower.

Straw littered the floor, mixing and matching with black feathers and spats of white droppings from the denizens of the tower.  Above the rays of red and gold afternoon light would stream from the many openings to allow the messengers flight in this dark time while an old desk and rack of shelving would have parchment and quill ready to send or receive.  The ravens of all manner of size usually were cawing and clacking about in a raucous abandonment enough so to drive men mad with cacophony of chatter.  But now they were silent as the dead.  For a moment Eld was afraid they were dead and judging by his companion he thought the same, but rather hundreds of silent black blinking unnerving eyes weighing and measuring them.  The bright green eye of the woman in the center of the room was just the same.

"Who are you?  How did you get in here?"  Caruso called as he moved to take up on Bandit's right, his sword pointed at the woman.

She was young, hardly yet into an adult by the fairness to her face and wild black hair.  But the black eye-patch across her left eye aged her hard to match the scattered scarring behind it, the right green eye though shone with unnatural knowledge.  She wore robes of dark leather and bone in the attire of the Thornspeakers but a large frame of black raven feathers wrapped about her shoulders and neck to a supposed hood that hung behind her head while a simple staff of ash was held in a free hand.  She was tall but lacked the wide frame of a Kul Tiran, likely from the east by the look of her and probably Gilnean if she traveled dressed as such.  A harvest witch or maybe another druid circle, it didn't really matter to Eld as he looked back at the woman with a sense of dread digging deep into his stomach.

The woman did not smile or look worried by the hound or guard, she merely stood in quietly in the center of the amphitheater of corvine.  She spoke firmly and clearly as she found Eld's gaze and stared back.  "Eldridge Candell."

"I am."

"I bring word of your father."

The crushing grip on Eld's stomach tightened, but he did not speak.  The woman didn't stop.

"Erlain Candell is dead."

A few unsteady breaths followed hearing those words.  Lain was dead.  Licking his lips and blinking his eyes a few times, Eld tried to steady his voice as he stumbled a moment before speaking after clearing his throat.  "And who are you to tell me this?"

The woman smiled slightly and took a short bow, her one eyed gaze never leaving his.

"My name is Gwynn."  The woman said matter of factually as she rose to her full height again.  "I am here to aid you and am in need of your help."

@daily-writing-challenge​

@eldridgecandell​ @gatesofthetroupe​

[profanetools]

Bthemetz: god of sun and open skies, daylight and the gentlest of rains, books, fresh tea, aged wine, words, writing, idioms, and fairweather spring days, clear autumn ones with a light breeze, of long handwritten letters, the beginnings of journeys, and the ends of chapters, rebirth and renewal, changes of seasons. (often depicted with a goblet and a book, under the afternoon sun)

Ysamyne: god of storms and choppy seas, mist filled woods and the spaces in between, lightning, long journeys, adventures, fury, fiendish puzzles, and the cawing of crows at dawn, who rewards those with determination, who endure the longest of nights. (often depicted with in the storm and the seas, with a knife and a compass, lightning striking behind her)

Nargazzut: god of mists and mysteries, god of sunsets, god of music and all the colours. god of beauty, as glimpsed through another eye. god of many faces and perspectives. god of wrong turns and paths untaken. god of spells and witchcraft. god of unknown fortunes and fates witheld. (often depicted with a lute and a half-mask, at twilight)

Revas: god of hunts, god of hearth and heart. god of the autumn leaves and the crisp breeze at the seasons fall, of autumn changed to winter. god of the reward after toil. the harvest god. god of love, unspoken, unconditional. god of the ends of difficult journeys. god of travellers looking for a home. (often depicted with a torch, offered outward, on an autumnal night)

Kasmei: god of luck. god of fortune. god of bright nights and strange moons. the wary god. a god that gives warnings, knows omens. god of unending journeys and caretaker of restless ones. death’s warden, that shepherds you through The End. god of the last laugh. (often depicted with twin blades, crossed to represent The Crossroads, on a starless night, with a crow at her shoulder)

[sunriseoverastorea]

Standing Stones

♬ WoW - Dun Morogh

30th Zephyr, 1331

Science is naught but conjecture. We have little to give if we do not wonder, and science is the art of wondering, the urge to explore, the longing for discovery. This was to be my life's work, investigating the boundaries of reality itself, the edge of the Eternal Alchemy, the unknown components on the borders of The All. A wiser being once said to let it be, withdraw from your delusions before it is too late. To imagine that one simple asura, with bravery and cunning, could learn the secrets of the world itself, aboard a ship of simpler scholars and soldiers. Well, we have paid the price for vanity, and I the greatest of all, that I should remain alive, if barely, in this warped husk of a ship. I wish I could describe what I saw, what I felt—there was a great lightning storm, which struck our vessel and disabled us, but it was not what did the great damage within. We fell into a void, is the only way to put it. The world beyond the portholes was black, and thick, impenetrable nothingness, and it seemed that time had stopped. I could not move, not even to breathe, and it felt as if my body was being ripped in a million different directions, my very molecules torn asunder. Indeed, I watched as much happen to some of my crew. They disintegrated, or were mangled into hideous shapes. The ship was cruelly jumbled and reformed, absorbing all those who fell in its path. And at the end of the void was a flash of light, and into it my research assistant vanished.

After the incident, I tossed the bodies overboard, as well as I could. My exoskeleton, along with everything else bound by technology, seemed to have had the life sucked out of it, making physical tasks difficult, even more so due to the unknown wasting illness I seemed to have contracted. Even now, my hand shakes with weakness so that I can barely write. But write I will, as a warning. The Unending Sea plays host to the repercussions of murdering dragons. On the mainland there are merely tremors, but on the ocean, there is chaos. It is as if the Mists are ripping themselves apart, the greatest of anomalies this asura has ever seen. And I will not die happy to know it.

Marea digs into a strip of jerky, tearing at it with her teeth, spraying little crusty bits onto the paper. Gippa must certainly have gone mad—the dead asura, that is. Her name was Gippa the Philosopher, according to her maddeningly dense pages of recollections, fresh out of college, and she really enjoyed drawing foods with happy faces on the corners of her notes. Marea can relate to this. To the rest of Gippa's findings, she cannot, as she is not quite that insane, but nonetheless, something strange happened to the Pact 91st Exploratory Squad while they were scouring the boundaries of the known world.

Perhaps they all caught an unknown illness—Gippa did mention being sick, after all. It caused visions and delusions, probably, made the crew turn on each other, set the ship afire, and only the asura with her superior will and intellect lived to relate the tale, in the best way she knew how. An odd tale, but only a tale, with an inkling of truth buried somewhere within.

Marea gets to her feet and saunters to the helm, where the afternoon sun shines radiantly off the steering wheel. She squints past it, at the cliffs in the near distance. They stretch high out of the water, white-chalked precipices swung gracefully upward into towering crowns. As if a giant hand had long ago splashed into the sea, and where the resulting tidal waves billowed impossibly tall, they turned to stone, and long green grass grew upon them, and fat little black and white birds with orange beaks settled in that grass and in the crevices along the cliff face.

She slips past the wheel and rests her forehead against the windshield, sighing softly as she looks down at the peaceful island. She could spend a long day down there, frolicking with the critters, searching for caves and signs of intelligent life. She could. And she could also contract a deadly disease that causes her to go nuts and burn down her own ship.

An island of madness, or an island of fun? That is always the question. Even before reading Gippa's research, islands had begun to carry a sort of wary gloom about them. All the more so because she couldn't remember what happened on an earlier one, her first stop.

“Is it worth it?” she asks aloud, her voice harsh and gritty compared to the constant, soft hum of the ship. “Do you think it's worth it, Horizon? I wanna meet the birds. They're goddamn cute. Nothing is cute up here. I can draw all the pretty little kitties I want, but it's not the same as having Inigo in my lap. Why hasn't the artificial intelligence of golems been installed in airships yet? I could be having a legitimate conversation with you right now.”

She pauses, cocking a brow as she stares at the empty cabin.

“Holy shit, I need to get out of here. Just one fucking hour. I'm not gonna go insane in an hour. Or I'm already insane and it makes no difference. Take the wheel Marea. Take it and shut up.”

The ship whirs and beeps as it makes a sudden turn towards the island, and the birds turn their black and white faces up to look at it, curious with their beady eyes.

Clouds drift across the sky overhead, gaps here and there in the rain-heavy cumulus letting in patches of blue warmth. Marea creeps cautiously through the grass, long green tendrils feathering around the spiked knees of her boots, and across from her, approaching from the cliff's edge, are the brave little birds, come to investigate the new arrival. They waddle from side to side, like very ovular quaggans, though the squawks they emit are far less adorable, and more akin to the much-loathed seagull's cries. Marea kneels down, holding out her empty hands as if they were a peace offering, and to her immense delight, the birds immediately swarm around her, nudging at her with their rounded heads and nipping at her leather coat with dull hooked beaks. She laughs, sitting back on her butt, and one immediately hops onto her lap, looking her dead in the eye and unleashing a hideous squawk. She gently scratches the top of its head, unafraid for her metal fingers with the strange avian, and after a minute the bird closes its eyes, content.

She roams the island without fear. The birds follow her wherever she goes, a writhing mass of feathered screeches many ranks deep, plus the lap-bird on her shoulder, like the leader of the gang. Her legs ache sweetly, finally able to stretch and move freely in any direction she pleases. The cool breeze carries the crisp tang of the sea, but as she journeys a mile inland, the crash of the waves fades from earshot, and only the wind rustling through the grass breaks the desolate silence. Even with her critters around her, it seems that the dip in the center of the island, a valley between the craggy cliff peaks, is the loneliest place in the world.

Eventually, they come to a rocky foundation. It rises only a foot out of the ground, no other traces of what once stood there remain. In the center of the foundation is a standing stone. No grass grows for a meter around it, forming a perfect circle of dirt. The stone itself has no particular shape, just a vague point upward, perhaps six feet tall. Marea stops in front of it, her bird friend ruffling his feathers anxiously, while the rest of the entourage lines up at the edge of the dirt, unwilling to go further.

She glances over her shoulder at the bobbing heads peeking up fearfully from the grass. “It's a rock. There's a lot of these where I come from.” The birds merely coo at her, as if pleading. Come back, strange featherless bird. This place is not for you.

“All places are for me,” she counters, nodding decisively as she steps past the stone, striding confidently into the field beyond. “Marea goes wherever Marea goes, and the world can take me or strike me down. Me and—Onogi,” she adds, giving her shoulder bird a reassuring bop on the beak. “I have a cat at home. His name is Inigo. That's how I came up with your name. I'm Marea, by the way. In case you didn't make that connection. Marea Sleekfur. And it's not because of my stunning frizzy hair.”

Onogi stares at her, chittering softly. She nods in agreement.

The valley is dotted with stones. She walks onward, and every so often, she encounters more. First two in a line, then three, four, and so fourth—some of them are taller, some are shorter than she, and some have the faintest remains of symbols carved into them. She traces her fingers along faded spirals and pictograph alphabets. She copies the symbols onto paper, records the positions of the stones, and chews on the end of her pen as she becomes hungry. Onogi jumps from her shoulder and flies low circles in the sky, going on ahead of her before looping back, riding the winds with stout black wings.

At the end of the valley, the land pitches sharply upwards as it approaches the far edge of the island, and the jagged cliffs cut from sea and salt. The sun sets as she crests the hill, casting a molten glow upon the green grasses and her pale skin, and upon the last flat expanse of plains before her. She lets out a low whistle at the sight, shielding her eyes with her hand—a great circle of standing stones spreads out in every direction, towering high as castles, glimmering with a strange golden shimmer in the sunlight. An eccentric network of lines has been laid out in dirt, past the first of which not even Onogi will pass.

“But Marea will pass. Marea has no fear,” she says, striding over the ancient ground. “This was a pretty cool adventure, I won't lie. An afternoon well spent. And once I get back to my ship, west it is. West forever. I have to find the mountains, and the horses, and, and...”

She grows quiet as she reaches the center stone, turned black against the heat of the fading sun. She places her feet just so in the dirt around it, and it seems they fit perfectly, in steps shared by a thousand others before her, and she pivots, turning slowly as the distant silhouettes suddenly take shape in her mind. She digs a hand into her coat, tearing out a wrinkled paper from Gippa's notes. She holds it up to the sky. THE ALL, proclaims the scholarly scrawl across the top margin, a network of grids and circles painstakingly laid out with perfect symmetry. A chill runs up her spine, prickling across her shoulders, as she realizes she stands in the middle of the odd motif. She expects the magic to hit her like a brick to the face, a tidal wave that smashes her to the ocean depths and devours her from the inside out—but the stone circle is still and silent, as empty and forlorn as the valley floor. Slowly, she turns to face the center stone once again, and, ever so gingerly, touches her forehead against the cool, damp rock.

The contact lasts only a moment, a short breath, but splitting pain shatters through her head and fills her vision with twinkling white lights. Beyond the lights is only blackness, tangible nothingness, and it fills her with an inexplicable, animalistic fear. She shoves herself backwards and falls into the dirt, scrambling away on all fours until she leaps to her feet and sprints. She flies past Onogi, who crouches down fearfully as she passes, watching her closely until she is long out of sight.

She remembers running from an island before, she remembers the confusion, and the unsettling, heavy feeling in her chest—hunger. She was hungry, and has always been hungry, longing for more from the world that feeds her. Longing for something that will fill the pit in her stomach, the hollowness in her bones. A desire so old and so simple, so deeply buried, she would never have thought of it herself.

She climbs onto her ship, and the flock of waddling birds watches from the distance, huddled in a wary clump. She sits on the floor and she stares at Gippa's drawing, unblinking even as her eyes begin to burn and blur. She saw the void the asura described. She glimpsed into the world beyond Tyria, and there was nothing. True, it was only one vision, one split second of a moment, but still, the sight fills her with fear. With hopelessness.

Finally, after what seems hours, she closes her eyes. She quietly gets to her feet, and tapes THE ALL to the corner of the windshield, where it blots out an insignificant square of the starry sky. What she saw cannot be it—there is more, beyond the white lights and the empty blackness. She refuses to believe that Tyria exists all alone in the Mists. There is something out there, and to find it, she must find the storm, find the void, and fall into the great unknown.

The ship turns away from the island, and glides westward. Fear turns to desperation, desperation to determination, and soon, determination to laughter, as Marea reads and rereads Gippa's account of the storm, cackling in the face of terror.

[therealvagabird]

The Island of Buyan

A fairy tale in the Slavic style, by C. Christiansen. A faithful recreation of ancient folk stories, featuring the villain Koschei the Deathless. Initially written for my college course.

Once in a rural village, neither then nor now, neither here nor there, there lived a family of peasants. The mother and the father were farmers, and had three sons. The eldest was quite strong, and became a ferrier for the army. The middle child was clever, and kept stocks and records in the town hall. The youngest, Ivan, was neither strong nor good with books and numbers. He sat on the stove all day, grooming himself and idling away.

Eventually, his mother reprimanded him. “When are you going to leave the home, Ivan? You need a wife, you need money, and yet you sit here preening all day!”

Ivan considered this, and was in the middle of thinking when a small bird perched on the windowsill.

“Go, go, young Ivan! To far Buyan, on the silver sea! Princess Carola seeks a groom!”

“A princess?” Ivan gawked, “But why should a princess want to marry me?” but then he thought, “Well, my brothers may be stronger and better learned than me, but I am neither weak nor slow. I’ve a fair temper, and fairer looks. Perhaps I have a chance!”

And so, thinking it his best hope, Ivan set out the next day with a pack on his back and what money he could spare. He journeyed to the shores of the silver sea, past the borders of the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom in the Thrice-Tenth Lands. He walked for many days, and was very tired when he reached the coast. Still, his wit and charms were enough to buy a small boat for cheap, and he set out rowing into the open ocean.

He rowed for as long as he had walked, and grew even more tired. Raising his arms in despair, he called to the winds.

“Oh, cruel fate! How much longer must I row to reach Buyan? My arms are tired, my legs are tired, and I’ve naught but half a loaf of dry bread left!”

And the spirits on the wind heard his cries. They swooped down and pushed in a heavy gale, sending Ivan’s boat onwards until it reached the island of Buyan. It was a mystical place, with a town that sparkled with moonlight, with a great mansion above. The forests were dark and green, and the fields wide and covered in blue grass.

Grateful for his luck, Ivan left his boat and went up to the shining village. He asked about where he might find the beautiful Princess Carola.

“Why, if only you’d gotten here a day sooner!” one villager remarked, “She’s been engaged already.”

“To who?” Ivan demanded, frown on his face.

“Tsar Koschei! He came in on a black horse, right over the waves, and swept up our good Princess to wed! She had no say in the matter.”

“And where is this Koschei?” Ivan inquired.

“Staying up in the royal villa, on top of the hill.” The peasant pointed to the majestic house.

“Well.” Thought Ivan aloud, “I will have to go up and duel this Koschei. Kidnapping Princesses won’t do! And I wanted to marry sweet Carola!”

“Oh, but you can’t duel him.” Warned the villager, “Koschei is deathless. He can’t be killed, not without his death.”

And so Ivan asked where he might find this death, but nobody knew. So he left, heading out to the forest for some peace and quiet so he could plan.

“Where oh where to find this death? Where do you find a death? Is it in the air? Hanging from a tree? Oh, I wish I knew!”

And one tree heard him, an old apple tree. It rustled and shook an apple right at Ivan’s head.

“Hey, what are you doing, tree?” Ivan rubbed at the bruise.

“You seek something? Perhaps I could help, if only you ask.” The tree spoke.

“I do ask, if you please.” Ivan informed it, “I seek the death of Tsar Koschei.”

“Ah, but you seek his soul! Koschei’s soul is as frail as a candle’s flame, but death cannot come to him so long as it stays hidden. And so he buried it in an iron chest, here on this very island. Go to where the amber stream leaves the green forest, and runs across the blue grass to the silver sea. There his chest is buried.”

Ivan thanked the tree graciously, and set off with nothing more than a hand-spade for digging. He found where the amber-colored stream left the green shadows of the forest, and ran across the blue meadows down to the silver sea, and began to dig. It was a tough job, but he couldn’t let Carola be married before he found Koschei’s death. Before the next morning’s sun rose, his spade clanked against the hard top of an iron chest. He pulled it out of the black soil, and turned the latch that sealed it shut.

Before Ivan had a chance to look inside, a hare jumped from the chest, running off across the fields and out of sight. When Ivan looked in the chest, there was nothing.

Just then, lightning flashed and Ivan looked in fear to the skies. A black horse rode down, with a man astride it. The man was thin as a rail, so thin you could see his bones. He had a great beard, a crown of bronze, and a cloak of white fur.

“What are you doing, child? Digging up my chest? You should leave such things well alone!” Tsar Koschei the Deathless snapped at Ivan.

“So you are Koschei? You seek to marry Princess Carola, but I was supposed to marry Carola! You listen, old man: such a beautiful girl can’t marry one like you! I’ll save her!”

“You certainly will not.” Koschei grumbled, “You will leave Buyan and you will not come back. I am to marry the Princess in three days, and I can’t have you interrupting. As such, I will give you three days to pick up and leave this island. If you fail to do so, I will strike you dead!” and Koschei drew forth a great black sword, and lightning flashed again. Ivan fled while Koschei laughed.

Later in the day, Ivan sat on a stump and looked up to the white mansion high on the far away hill above the town.

“Oh Carola! You could have married me, but now you’re set to marry that old corpse. How am I to catch that hare? Koschei’s death must be hidden with it, and yet I am not fast enough, nor do I know how fix a snare!”

Just then, a small bird perched on a branch above, and spoke in a familiar voice.

“Young Ivan, young Ivan! You’ve come to wed the Princess!” the bird exclaimed.

“I did, but now I can’t. I cannot catch the death of Tsar Koschei!” Ivan told the bird.

“Go, go, young Ivan. Back to where the chest is buried. A hare lives inside, yes? When it tries to flee, I will turn into a great raven and catch it!”

Ivan was astounded and thanked the bird, heading back to where the amber stream left the green woods, and snaked across the blue meadows into the silver sea. He took his spade, and knowing where the chest was this time he dug and dug. Koschei had buried it deeper than before, but still he managed to find it by the next morning. He turned the latch on the chest, and the hare leapt out, dashing across the meadows. With a rawking caw, a great black raven swooped down and grabbed the hare, tearing it open with its beak. But just then, with a sudden puff of fur and feathers, the rabbit vanished, and a duck took to the skies from where it had lain. The duck flew off into the skies, and lightning flashed again.

“Foolish child!” Koschei rode down on his black horse, “You invite death! I would kill you early, if I did not have my honor! Leave Buyan! Leave my chest alone! And do so before my wedding, or I my sword will drink your blood!” Ivan was terrified at his wrath, and fled again, running off into the forest.

The next day, Ivan was thinking hard. He could not leave until he had the Princess, though he was not keen on dying.

“How to catch that duck? I have no bow, I have no net! What to do?”

And it was then he heard a whisper on the breeze, and saw the faces of several spirits swirling about him. They were fair, not ghostly, and sang like the ocean winds.

“Spirits! Will you help me again? My gratitude would be unending! I must have the death of Koschei, for the sake of the good Princess!”

The spirits nodded in silence, and fluttered back to the skies.

That night, Ivan returned to where the chest had been buried again, following the amber stream until it left the green forest to meander down the blue fields into the silver sea. He spotted where the chest was buried, and saw there was a big stone resting on top of it. It was a great burden, but with all the might he could muster, Ivan shifted the stone aside and set about digging down, down, down to find the iron chest.

When he pulled it up, he undid the latch, and the hare came darting out. Before it could run away, the raven swooped down for its meal. When the black bird tucked into the rabbit, the duck sprang forth and took to the skies. But then a great gale swept in, and sent the duck spiraling towards the ground. Ivan grabbed the bird, and as it squawked it laid a single, glowing egg. Ivan let go of the duck and grabbed the egg, cracking it open to find a fine sewing needle. In the eye of the needle flickered a little blue flame.

Lightning parted the skies, and Koschei rode down on his horse in a fury, black sword drawn.

“Fool! What are you doing?!” he demanded, but then saw the needle in Ivan’s fingers.

“You are finished, Koschei, and Carola is free!” and with that he blew out the flame in the needle.

“NO!” but Koschei’s bones flew away like smoke, and he was gone.

Ivan marched up to the royal villa, and found Carola there. He proclaimed Koschei had met his death, and that he wished to marry her. The gracious princess agreed, and the two were married but the next day. They sailed back across the sea on a beautiful ship, to the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom in the Thrice-Tenth Lands, where stood the palace of the Princess’ father, the good Tsar. They lived there for many long years in prosperity and health, with treasures all about them. I saw it! I was there! I drank beer—but it all flowed down my moustache, and none went in my mouth!

[terryblount]

Anthem update 1.1.0 available for download, full patch release notes revealed, major features delayed

Bioware has released a major new update for Anthem. According to the release notes, patch 1.1.0 adds the ability to access the Forge during Missions, Strongholds and Freeplay (meaning that you can change your gear without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay) and makes the Sunken Cell stronghold available to all players who have completed the main story.

In addition, this patch adds the ability to select contracts from the start of expedition screen rather than going to the individual contract boards in Fort Tarsis or in the Launch Bay, as well as the ability to launch a new mission from the end of expedition screen without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay.

Furthermore, update 1.1.0 comes with a number of balance tweaks, adds additional cortex entries to explain combo, detonator, and primer abilities, as well as new Universal Masterwork Components, and adds STT (Speech-to-Text) and TTS (Text-to-Speech) on all platforms.

Unfortunately, though, Bioware has also announced that some major features that were coming to Anthem have been delayed. These features are: Mastery System, Guilds, Legendary Missions – Phase II, Weekly Stronghold Challenge, Leaderboards, Some Freeplay Events and Cataclysm.

As Bioware stated:

“We know you have been waiting for these updates, and that you might not be pleased with where we are today. We understand and respect these perspectives.

The only thing we can say is this – We Believe in Anthem. We believe the game will be great, but we recognize getting there will take a lot of hard work. We want to do that work and we want you all to join us on the journey to get there.”

Anthem’s latest update, version 1.1.0, will be auto-downloaded from Origin the next time you launch its client, and you can find its complete changelog below.

Anthem Patch 1.1.0 Release Notes

New Features

The Sunken Cell stronghold is now available to all players who have completed the main story (critical path).

Added the ability to select contracts from the start of expedition screen rather than going to the individual contract boards in Fort Tarsis or in the Launch Bay.

Added the ability to launch a new mission from the end of expedition screen without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay.

Added the ability to access the Forge during Missions, Strongholds and Freeplay. You can now change your gear without having to return to Fort Tarsis or the Launch Bay!

General Notes

Added additional cortex entries to explain combo, detonator, and primer abilities.

Added new Universal Masterwork Components

Extended Sniper Magazine: Adds specialized storage for enhanced sniper rifle ammunition. Increases damage by 30% of base damage. Increases maximum magazine size of sniper rifles by a large amount.

Rapid Hollow Points: Adds specialized ammo storage for machine pistols and autocannons. Increases damage by 30%. Increases weak point damage of machine pistols and autocannons.

Extended Special Arms Magazine: Adds specialized ammo storage for heavy pistols and grenade launchers. Increases damage by 30%. Increases maximum magazine size of heavy pistols and grenade launchers by a large amount.

Added primer/detonator icons in the cortex next to gear entries.

Fixed a bug where “Legendary Freelancer” Javelin challenge objectives weren’t completing correctly in the challenge journal.

Resolved an issue where players were being kicked back to Fort Tarsis when loading into quickplay missions.

Fixed a problem where the “Arcanist Loyalty 3″ trophy could not granted on Playstation 4.

Fixed an issue where notifications for challenges were not appearing correctly.

Resolved an issue where after respawning, you could be downed again prior to re-loading back in fully.

Added STT (Speech-to-Text) and TTS (Text-to-Speech) on all platforms.

GAMEPLAY BALANCE ADJUSTMENTS Masterwork Weapons

Retaliation of Garretus – Trajector Machine Pistol

Increased bonus from 200% to 400%

Rolling Carnage – Vengeance Shotgun

Increased bonus from 50% stacking 3 times, to 83.33% stacking 3 times.

The Last Stand – Mauler Autocannon

Increased bonus from 200% to 225%

Fist of Stral – Cloudburst Autocannon

Increased bonus from 10% stacking 10 times, to 16% stacking 10 times.

Unending Battle – Fulcrum Machine Pistol

Increased bonus from 110% to 135%

Death From Above – Guardian Marksman Rifle

Increased bonus from 65% to 235%

Wyvern Blitz – Deadeye Sniper Rifle

Increased bonus from 40% to 185%

Masterwork Gear

Colossus:

Final Judgment – HE Mortar

Increased bonus from 35% to 55%

Fist of the Crucible – Flamethrower

Increased bonus from 12% *10 to 24% *10

Interceptor

Serpent’s Veil – Venom Bomb

Increased bonus from 100% to 202.5%

Ruthless Stalker – Searching Glaive

Increased bonus from 60% to 110%

Bitter Harvest – Cluster Mine

Increased bonus from 60% to 110%

Ranger

Cold Blooded – Frost Grenade

Increased bonus from 235% to 270%

Avenger’s Boon – Pulse Blast

Increased bonus from 210 % to 220%

Storm

Ponder Infinity – Lightning Strike

Increased bonus from 60% to 165%

Chaotic Rime – Frost Shards

Increased bonus from 125% to 250%

Gear

Friendly player projectiles should now be able to pass through Javelins in your squad.

Colossus’ Firewall Mortar should now more reliably spawn the Firewall effect when directly hitting enemies, sloped surfaces, or next to walls.

Status Effects / Combos

Delay between when players and creatures are frozen and when the visual effect is applied has been reduced to improve readability of the status effect.

If a player applies a status effect that already exists on a target, but the new status effect has a higher damage than the existing one, the damage will now scale to that higher value.

Players who prime targets for combos will now also see the “Combo” text when detonated by another player.

Increased the damage of the Electric status effect when applied to creatures.

BUG FIXES Creatures

Fixed additional issues where the Titan fireball projectile attack was hitting players when they successfully dodged/evaded.

Fixed an issue where the Titan would not always use all of its available attacks.

Javelins

Adjusted environmental lightning strikes to not target javelins directly as frequently.

Fixed an issue where the predicted gear score was inaccurate if you were selecting to equip a higher tier component than was currently equipped.

Fixed a bug where the Colossus shield wouldn’t appear when deployed to other players in the squad.

Resolved several issues where status effects remained on the player far longer than the actual effect (e.g. the Frozen status effect appearing on the javelin after the effect has ended).

Fixed a bug where the Storm’s shield did not get the intended 20% damage resistance increase while hovering.

Fixed a bug where the Interceptor Ultimate attack would not chain when holding the fire button instead of holding the melee button.

Gear

Bulwark Point now properly gets duration increases from utility duration bonus inscriptions.

Fixed a bug where Interceptor melee gear was not going on cooldown when used in air.

Fixed an issue where explosive projectiles were not affecting destructible combat objects (e.g. scar bunkers).

Fixed a problem where the Storm’s Seal of the Open Mind Masterwork would incorrectly allow a player to fire 3 charges when the UI only showed 2 available.

Fixed a bug where gear recharge progress could be lost if you used a charge while additional charges were being restored.

Components

Fixed an error where the Masterwork Colossus Stock Augment had a lower base % increase than its non-Masterwork counterparts. (Increased from 5% to 35%).

Fixed the Ranger Grenadier Component text to properly display the stat value %.

Fixed a problem with the Special Arms Ammo component not properly increasing grenade launcher damage.

Status Effects / Combos

Fixed some instances where multiple players contributing to a single status effect would see incorrect floating values

Fixed an issue where you could receive a status effect from a creature attack while invulnerable.

Weapons

Fixed a problem where the Legion of Dawn rifle disappears from the forge while in the Launch Bay

Fixed a bug where ammo pick-ups weren’t restoring any ammo in the current magazine for the Devastator Sniper Rifle.

Fixed the Striker’s Balance weapon so that the weapon accuracy and projectile trajectory should be corrected when the bonus is applied.

Corrected Torrent Autocannon description text to match current functionality.

Fixed a bug where Avenging Herald was incorrectly applying its bonus damage to secondary weapons while holstered. This bonus is now only active when Avenging Herald is the active weapon.

All Devastator Sniper Rifle weakpoint hit multipliers have been corrected to a 1.75 multiplier.

Text Descriptions

Updated “Critical Damage” to “Weakpoint Damage” in any text descriptions.

Updated “Impact Dmg” to “Kinetic Dmg” in any text descriptions.

Updated “Impact Resist” to “Kinetic Resist” in any text descriptions.

Corrected formatting on the inscription values for Overheat Delay Recovery, Thruster Delay Recovery, and Weap Reload Speed so they no longer have multiple +/- values.

Removed text from the Masterwork Flamethrower which indicated that it was a detonator when it is not.

Fort Tarsis

Removed the duplicate second pistol from Argentum Tran’s Sidearm case after completing the Freelancer Reputation Rewards – Level 3.

Elysian Key marker over daily challenges no longer disappears on returning to Fort Tarsis.

Fixed an issue where Yarrow’s final conversation could play too early in some scenarios.

Removed Dax from the background of a conversation where you are told she went out to get some tea.

Fixed an issue where Commander Vule left the frame during a conversation with Brin and the player.

Fixed an issue where Jarek Arnel’s arm clipped badly into the wall.

Resolved an issue where you were told that your squad was waiting on you to ready up, when it wasn’t true.

Resolved an issue where Faye wasn’t shown in a cinematic scene that she is speaking in with Haluk.

Fixed various spelling and grammatical errors in the journal and library entries.

Freeplay

Fixed an issue where targeted creatures in freeplay would lose their target icon if you flew too far away from the arena and returned.

Fixed an issue where sentinels disappeared from the Sentinel Support World Event, making it impossible to complete the event.

Fixed an issue where you couldn’t progress in the Tombs of the Legionnaires quest if one member of your squad had not unlocked that quest yet.

Fixed an issue where you couldn’t interact with and enter the Tomb of Artinia when you had completed the requirements to unlock it.

Picking up some collectible archives were limited to the player that interacted with them.  Now all players within 100m of the player collecting the archive will automatically collect the archive as well.

Fixed an issue where turrets could spawn too far away from the world event location.

Fixed an issue where being downed in the Arcanist Korox Study world event would not reset properly when you came back.

Strongholds

Downed players are now automatically revived when the stronghold boss is defeated.

Temple of the Scar: Fixed an issue where the fog wall visual effect remained, even though it didn’t actually prevent the player from progressing.

Temple of the Scar: Fixed an issue where the player could escape the world near the waterfall.

Tyrant Mine: Prevented turrets from spawning in the second area before players were led there and the rest of the enemies had spawned in to fix an exploit.

Heart of Rage: Fixed an issue where enemies could be trapped behind a fog wall, preventing the player from progressing.

Critical Path and Legendary Missions

Heart of Rage: Fixed an issue where killing the titan without entering the arena would cause you to respawn backwards, making it impossible to advance and complete the mission.

Legendary Incursion: Fixed an issue where the plot wouldn’t advance after listening to the recording.

Legendary Missions: Fixed an issue where the final chest would never appear at the end of the mission if you were too far away from the chest.

Legendary Fortress of Dawn: Fixed an issue for the second trial where the plot would break if one player was slow to load in and the other player ran ahead.

Legendary Freelancer Down: Fixed an issue where the plot wouldn’t progress until all members of the squad had reached the specified point.

Legendary Finding Old Friends:  Fixed an issue where enemies could be stuck behind a fog wall, preventing the plot from progressing.

Fixed an issue where the notification of Legendary Missions being unlocked after completing the critical path was not displaying.

Legendary Lost Arcanist: Fixed an issue where the Escari was teleporting around too frequently.

Legendary Freelancer Down: Fixed a respawn point that was very far away from the objective.

Contract – Freelancer Work: Fixed an issue where the step to protect the Arcanists wasn’t working correctly when joining through Quick Play.

Anthem update 1.1.0 available for download, full patch release notes revealed, major features delayed published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[ishgard]

WIP Whenever

tagging: @swiftcast-selene, @starrysnowdrop, @bunflora, @lilbittymonster, @crystal-verse, @thefreelanceangel, @l3ylines, @tcfactory, @anneapocalypse, @feralkwe - no pressure! :D

Guess who wrote today. This guy! 👍

[Time-wise, occurs shortly after the end of 7.0.]

"A moment if you would, Ahru. I… actually have a gift for you."

They were just preparing to leave his apartment when he called to her, retreating back into his room. She blinked slowly before following after him, watching as he reached into the high shelf in his closet.

A small fragment of her mind wondered briefly when he would have had the time to get her a present - but she caught herself before she foolishly let those words slip out.

"It's been collecting dust up here for a while now, but when I saw it at the auction, I couldn't stop myself. I simply knew it had to be yours."

Her ears twitched, detecting the somber hint of far deeper sentiments behind his words. No matter how much time passed, no matter what he had to do to get it to her, 'it had to be hers'. In that way, the gift was then, perhaps, just as much a lodestone by which he charted his course forward.

"You were attending auctions?" A smile tugged at her lips and she tilted her head curiously, watching as he pulled down a long, thin box. By the shape of it alone, her mind raced to eager conclusions.

The look he gave her was strangely more guarded than she would have expected, and it hurt a little. A knowing smirk, a glint in his eyes - and the slightest furrow of his brow, betraying secret exploits and adventures he had yet to share with her. Perhaps he never would.

"It was… a charity event. I also walked away with valuable intel." His explanation was a touch stiff, and it was clear he didn't intend to speak further on it as he held the box out towards her. "Go ahead."

Her worries about all the things he'd done and endured would take as much time to work through as unveiling those things in the first place. For the moment, she let herself be distracted by his gift, a thrill of excitement buzzing through her as she moved to lift the lid.

Within laid a sword of ancient Alexandrian make, or so she presumed - though it looked to be made from electrope, it obviously wasn't anything like their modern weapons. Her eyes widened as she took in it's features, unceremoniously dropping the lid (to which Alphinaud snorted) as her fingers twitched towards the blade and its hilt.

"Twas the weapon of a vaunted knight of Alexandria, said to have quelled countless threats in her time. Though, as you might imagine given the current state of their society, few of the finer details survived to this day and age."

Taking it into her hands, the weight of it felt superb. For however ancient it must have been, it had been brilliantly preserved, no doubt in part to it's own materials, and the technologies Alexandria now possessed. She grinned as she watched the way the light moved over the black blade, lines of color gleaming when it moved just so, shifting from deep purples to reds and blues. Turning, she gave it a tight, sharp sweep up to shoulder level, before giving it a twirl.

"How do you like it?" He watched as her eyes sparkled, betraying the answer, but greedily he wanted to hear it all the same.

"It's amazing." She beamed at him, barely able to restrain her enthusiasm. She ran a finger along the blades edge, feeling the ever-so-slight, not-yet-unpleasant thrum of an electric current buzzing against her skin. "You can tell it was made with a lot of care. Gorgeous, but not at the cost of it's utility."

After I made the comment "He knows what she likes" one thought led to another and I laughed to myself like "yeah, and he gets her the best gifts. shiny new weapons with no expense spared." and you see where this led. 😂 Purposefully kind of vague on weapon description/whose it was to possibly leave myself some wiggle room with it in the future. 🤔

[talesofdungeonsanddragons]

The Cave of Dangers

Chapter 3

“It’s dark.” Altair was quick to point out as they entered the cave. Phoenix rolled her eyes at his brilliant statement before throwing out her hand to cast the spell ‘fairy lights’. Slowly, delicate lights began to bloom down the tunnel, leading them deeper and deeper underground. The five adventurers delved into the cave wearily, weapons clutched tightly in their hands. Damian kept his bow notched and ready in his hand, prepared to shoot at whatever dared move. Lord Bamf drew a spear and kept his bright blue eyes trained on the space in front of them. Phoenix took the lead next to Dovahkiin, a dagger in hand as she moved forward.

“It’s been too peaceful for my tastes.” Dovahkiin grumbled, blue scales turning a ghastly grey under the light of the fairy lights. Phoenix gave him an exasperated look at his bloodlust, as she was grateful for the lack of fighting. It might be good practice, but it was more appealing to simply accomplish the mission without any hitches. All she wanted was to get the item, get out, and have enough gold to have a roof to sleep under for at least a week. Dovahkiin’s glowing yellow eyes met hers in the darkness as a scowl formed on his lips. “All I am saying is that I-”

He was cut off by something dark and furry dropping down from the ceiling in front of them. Phoenix gave an earsplitting shriek as the creature stepped into the glow of her fairy lights. A giant spider, its fangs dripping with venom, hissed before lunging at her petrified form. She wasn’t normally afraid of arachnids, but amplify any sort of creature with more than four furry legs, and it was likely to frighten anyone. Dovahkiin gave a roar of happiness before swinging down his banana-shaped sword and slicing the creature in half.

“Get in the spirit, Phoenix!” He shouted merrily swinging his sword at another spider. She made a noise of discomfort before she sliced at a nearby spider. It raised one furry leg in defense, causing her to cringe in repulsion and miss her target. The spider made a growling noise before springing at her. She grimaced and held out her dagger to block it, but found an arrow impaling it before it reached her.

“Did someone call for a knight in shining armor?” Damian called, moving to her side with an arrow pulled taunt. He shot her a charming smile, striking to what she supposed was a heroic pose. Unamused and unimpressed, she turned away from him.

“Don’t talk to me.” She replied before lunging for another spider, as fighting them seemed more appealing than continuing speaking with the man. Damian’s face fell at the blatant rejection, as it was not the reaction he typically got, as he let an arrow fly, it completely missing its target and bouncing harmlessly off of the cave walls. His brother moved in front of him to spear an attacking spider as it seemed that the emotional damage that Damian took rattled him.

“I know see why you were drinking alone last night.” Altair muttered as he held his own against a group of two spiders. Phoenix sneered at the red-eyed teifling in response, as she knew and accepted the fact that she was not someone who made friends as easily as she once did. It took only a few minutes for the group to dispatch the attacking spiders before they were left in an empty cavern with only their enemies’ corpses. Dovahkiin looked around for a moment at the empty cavern for a moment, deciding that it was safe to move on. Phoenix carefully stepped over the oozing corpses on the floor with a look of disgust on her face, following Dovahkiin as he continued through the underground path. She once against cast fairy lights, guiding them further into the cave.

        The deeper they went, the more inky the darkness around them became. The temperature seemed to drop with every step they took, causing a few of them to begin to wrap their cloaks closer around them. As Damian and Bamf took out torches to use, as the fairy lights were becoming dim, Phoenix took the opportunity to take a long drink from her water canteen. A musty scent had filled her nose, consequently giving her an odd taste on her tongue. This cavern had clearly been deserted for some time, judging by the dry and dusty state along with the giant cobwebs that they continued to run into. She was curious as to what exactly they would find at the end of this seemingly unending tunnel. As a kind of reassurance, she reached up to fiddle with the necklace she wore. The constant comforted her, as it had been something that she had always kept with her. They walked in complete silence, for how long Phoenix couldn’t say. It seemed like hours upon hours. Perhaps it would be the next day already when they exited the cave.

        “Perhaps I could hold your hand, Phoenix.”

        “Only if you want to lose it, Damian.”

        “I see light!” Lord Bamf suddenly shouted, pointing ahead to a speck of light. The adventurous began to hurry forward at the prospect of getting out of this cave. Phoenix pursed her lips as they made their way toward the light, trying to remember if the tunnel had sloped up at all during their journey. Although she found herself not minding, as long as they got to breath in some fresh air soon.

        As they got closer, the group realized that no fresh air was blowing from the light-source. Cautiously, the slowed their pace and paused at the entrance, allowing their eyes to adjust to the light. Once they were all able to see once more, due to the numerous torches that lined the circular chamber in front of them, they all came to a sudden halt.

        “Are those…” Phoenix began to whisper, trailing off as she gripped her dagger tightly.

        “Orcs.” Altair finished her sentence as seven blood-red eyes locked on the five of them. A chorus of excited rumbles arose from the orcs as they all drew wicked-looking swords off of their backs. Phoenix looked behind them in bewilderment, wondering how the tunnels had looked as though this place was abandoned whilst there were orcs waiting for them here. It was as if the orcs had been expecting them…before she could think about this theory any further, one of the orcs lunged forward at Dovahkiin, apparently taking him to be the greatest threat out of their group.

        Dovahkiin gave a booming laugh before responding by parrying with one of his mighty battle axes. Shoving the orc back into his companions, Dovahkiin reeled his head back, inhaling deeply before throwing his head forward and releasing a stream of lightning into the group of orcs. The creatures began to shriek as the lightning coursed through their body, knocking a few of them off of their feet. The blue dragonborn’s companions stood with expressions of both awe and surprise for a moment, taking away their attack of opportunity on the disoriented orcs. Bamf lunged forward after shaking his head to clear it, jabbing his spear into the shoulder of one orc. The creature yelled in outrage before responding by slashing at Bamf’s face. The tan man threw himself backwards, the blade only nicking the end of his long nose.

        Phoenix was the next to join the battle, leaving Damian and Altair to provide them with support with their respective ranged weapons. She rushed forward with her dagger aiming for the nearest orc’s abdomen. As it was still dazed from the lightning strike, she managed to hit her mark. Its blackish blood sprayed over her face, blinding her for a few seconds as she yanked her dagger out and stepped backwards to wipe the vile smelling substance off of her face..

        Altair turned to aim his arrow at the orc she had been fighting, shooting a bolt into its shoulder. One of its companions came to its aid, aiming to stab Phoenix just as she reopened her eyes. With a huff, she managed to redirect the shot to her heart to graze off of her shoulder. Nothing a simple healing spell wouldn’t fix. Damain began to fire arrow after arrow at the orcs, missing his target more often than hitting it. Frowning, he drew back another arrow, taking note of his dwindling supply. His took a deep breath, closing his eyes and concentrating all magical energy on the tip of his arrow. As he reopened his eyes, he sharply exhaled and released the arrow.

        As if in slow motion the arrow gave a flash of deep purple, transforming itself into three magic missiles, two of which drilled into the orc that Phoenix and Altair had injured while the other smashed into one of the cave walls. The orc was blasted backwards, landing against the opposite wall with a thud, and did not get up again. There was a moment of deep pride in Damian, as he smirked at the fallen orc…and then chunks of the ceiling began to rain from above them.

        Phoenix began to say every vile curse that she had learned during her travels as she rolled out of the way of one of the falling rocks, knocking into Dovahkiin as he began to lose his balance. The large dragonborn fell to the ground with a resounding crash, bashing his head against the unyielding stone floor. Bamf used his shield to keep from being injured, grunting as large rocks dented the metal and pressed down upon him. Once the cave had stopped falling apart, both groups were left disoriented and confused as they looked around the partially destroyed cavern. The orcs, to the adventurer’s misfortune, recovered before they did. One took the opportunity to drive its blade into Dovahkiin’s leg while another orc bashed the blunt side of his sword into Phoenix’s skull. Vision blurred and head pounding, she rolled out of the way of another attack. Damian aimed another arrow at one of the remaining six orcs, his panicked aim managing to catch one in the arm.

        Bamf, apparently used to his brother’s misfortune, sprung to action and began to stab at the orcs with his spear once more. Although he was large in stature, unlike his lean brother, he moved with a sort of grace through the ranks of the orcs. Phoenix, forcing herself out of her daze put a hand to her head and winced as it came back stained with red. She didn’t have many takes on her healing spell left, so she had to use it sparingly. Scooping up her fallen dagger, she managed to sloppily dance her way around the orcs to get to the fallen Dovahkiin.

        “I’m going to heal your leg, but it may sting a bit.” She warned, eyeing the giant gash that marred his leg. Her ears still rang from the blow she took minutes ago, but she figured that shouldn’t alter her from healing him. He looked over at her with an expression that suggested that he had endured far worse as she leaned over his leg. Damian moved to cover them while Altair remained by the exit. Leaning over the wound, Phoenix observed the gouge for a moment. Bone could be seen, although it didn’t look like the bone itself had been marred. This made her job all the more easier. Holding a hand over the wound, she cast the last healing spell she would be able to muster that day, effectively sealing the wound. “You’ll want to get further assist-”

        She was cut off by Dovahkiin raising his ax and blocking an attack aimed for the back of her head. Gratefully Phoenix sent him a grin before driving her dagger between the chinks in the creature’s armor and into its chest. It crumpled in front of them as she yanked her weapon back. The duo stood up and began to engage in the fight once more with the remaining five orcs.

        One, dressed in finer armor than the others, stepped forward towards her and Dovahkiin, swiftly attacking with his fine sword. Phoenix ducked to the side as Dovahiin swung with his large ax, missing and hitting only the empty air over the orc’s head. The orc smirked and drove his blade forward, aiming for Dovahkiin’s exposed stomach. On pure instinct, Phoenix moved to counter the attack with her dagger, not realizing how much force was behind the attack until she watched as her dagger shattered into fragments.

        “Damn.” She muttered as she jumped back from another attack from the finely dressed orc. Tossing aside her broken dagger and instead grabbing her crossbow, she moved back near Damian to begin assisting from the back. Bamf and Dovahkiin took positions in front of the three providing ranged support, but they all found the fear that at least one of them would not be walking out of here.

        “I knew it was a good idea to follow them.”

        The five adventurers jumped as two shadows rushed past them, one large and hulking while the other was small and stocky. Darius and Tabul, looking exhilarated to be back in the heat of battle, jumped into the group of five orcs. Darius kneeled down and put up his great silver shield, which Tabul promptly planted a foot on and launched himself into the air. While most of the orcs became concerned with the flying dwarf, Darius took the opportunity to begin hacking at the nearest orc. Tabul came down on the finely dressed orc, swinging his ax down to embed it in its head. Within a matter of seconds, Darius and Tabul managed to do what the new adventurers  had spent nearly three quarters of an hour trying to do. Once the cavern was clear of any more enemies, Darius and Tabul turned around with broad grins on their faces.

        “We could have handled that on our own.” Dovahkiin mumbled with a suddenly downtrodden look on his face. The two old adventurous began laughing at that comment, causing his blue-scaled cheeks to flush a dark navy. Phoenix simply sighed in relief that they no longer had to face what was beginning to look like certain death. She probed the throbbing wound on the side of her head, finding only a small cut being the source of all of the blood on her hand.

        “We just came to make sure that you all didn’t die on your first quest.” Tabul chuckled throatily, reaching into his bag and extracting a crystalline orb.  “We’ve brought a portal with us as well so you won’t have to walk all of the way back. We figured that you lot would have used enough energy fighting whatever waited in here.”

        “Thank you.” Phoenix said, a grateful smile now adorning her lips. First saving them and then giving them an alternative to enduring a long walk back to the bar…Darius and Tabul were proving to be more valuable allies than she could have imagined. Her eyes drifted over to the chest against the far wall. “Let’s grab the chest and go. We’ll sort out the things inside once we get back.”

         Nobody could argue with the prospect of being back at the bar sooner rather than later, and quickly snapped into action. Tabul smashed the orb against the floor, creating a swirling blue portal that gave a watery image of the bar. Dovahkiin carrying the chest, they all stepped through the portal and breathed better as the smell of oak and alcohol filled their noses.