#aaaaaAAAaaaAAAA DUEL TIME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

damienthepious · 4 years

Text

time 2 be emotionally fraught baybeeeeee happy LKT!

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: Damien tests his theory.

Chapter Notes: inconsistent chapter length be damned!!! i do what i want! [kicks desk] anyway happy LKT, i love youu

They make poor progress with their research, that morning. Arum is-

He is clearly acting grumpier than he feels, a defensive layer of prickliness that Rilla really isn't surprised by, but she suspects that the lizard slept far less than he implied, too. He looks shadowed and tense in a way that reminds her distinctly and unpleasantly of how he looked the first time she stayed here in the Keep, and she doesn't think that's just because that's basically the mindset that he's in. She knows how his tail coils when he's far too tired, by now.

A lot of the problem with their research is that monsters seem to keep their methods of creating curses pretty damn close to the chest, and Arum himself isn't really in the business. His creations have always been a lot more physical. "Practical," in his words, though Rilla quietly disagrees that a decent chunk of his nonsense projects are practical.

Arum knows a few ways to get rid of hexes and jinxes- ritual words, ceremonies of cleansing, magic potions, the sorts of things that usually frustrate Rilla out of her mind with their inconsistency. Rilla's frustration doesn't much matter, though, because Arum is convinced that none of the above would be effective against a curse like this anyway. A magical-herb-infused bath might knock out some minor blight, but this? It's too deep.

... They do test a few smaller ideas anyway, if only to see if they might weaken whatever it is that's locking Arum's memories away (none of them say, out loud, the possibility that the memories are gone, not just inaccessible), but after each minor test Arum only sags further and shakes his head.

By midday they're all... disheartened, to use a Damien word. Arum more than her and Damien, if Rilla's read is correct. Again- it really doesn't help that he's so obviously exhausted. Damien meets Rilla's eyes over the small lunch the Keep brings for them (it's been picking out meals that it knows are each of their favorites, Rilla is sure that it's deliberate- she thinks she oughta take an aside with the Keep later today, thank it a bit more directly, check in to make sure it's doing alright, considering-), and Rilla knows he's thinking of their conversation this morning. Rilla still isn't enthusiastic about the idea, it seems dangerous, for a number of reasons, but-

Arum pulled Damien back to them with a duel, didn't he?

And, frankly, it's not like Rilla has any better ideas. None that don't involve a near-impossible infiltration and- well. Murder, theoretically.

She catches Damien's eye again as they clean up their bowls, and she gives him a nod, and as much of a smile as she can manage.

Damien nods in return, his expression nervous but steady, and then he takes a deep breath.

"I may have an idea," Damien says, and Rilla's heart thuds at the way Arum's face flashes with hope before he buries it in a frown. "Would you mind," he continues, "if we were to retreat to the greenhouse, to discuss it?"

Arum's frown deepens, clearly unhappy not to just out with it right now, but he turns and gestures with a hand for the Keep to open the way.

"A duel," Arum drawls, and the little knight does a poor job of hiding the way Arum's tone makes him wince. Or, perhaps he did not intend to hide it at all. "So you wish to do precisely what the Senate wanted us to, then?"

"By no means," the knight says, jerking his head sharply. "It may be a foolish idea-"

"The reasoning is sound," Amaryllis interrupts, firm, and the knight glances towards her with a grateful smile.

"Well- I hope so. I thought, perhaps- we duel often, you see, to keep our skills sharp, to settle inconsequential matters, to-" he cuts himself off, his cheeks darkening, and then he shakes his head. "So- so I thought, perhaps, that if we cannot strike upon a magical means of weakening this affliction, then maybe there could be a more physical method. If your body remembers- remembers warmth enough to trouble your sleep when you are lacking, then... perhaps your body may remember the strain of our physical activities together as well."

Arum frowns, both grateful and furious with the poet for avoiding the mention of what precise heat his body remembers. It is embarrassing in the extreme, of course, but it is almost more embarrassing that Damien seems to know to avoid specificity in the matter. "So you believe that we may... knock some sense into me, as it were."

Amaryllis chokes a laugh, which is oddly gratifying. Damien, for his part, looks mournful again, wide-eyed and worried.

"I have no desire to hurt you," he insists.

"And yet you wish to fight."

"To duel," Damien says. "To spar, if that phrasing is more... acceptable."

"We do this often?" Arum says, doing nothing to hide his skepticism, and then he eyes Damien, unarmed as he is. Arum, on the other hand, is armed. Excepting his time in their room the night before, his knives have been carefully strapped to his person since the Keep allowed Damien to leave, the first morning they woke together. He... believes that they are earnest, now, yes, but he is not so foolish as to leave himself without defense.

"Like, kind of annoyingly often," Amaryllis says, leaning against a thick tree trunk and crossing her arms over her chest, and the poet's lips press together in something of a pout. "I don't really get it, but yeah."

"It-" Damien furrows his brow, and then he sighs. "If you think the idea ridiculous, or if- if you do not trust that I will not hurt you- if you do not agree, Arum, then obviously we will not try it. We can find another thread to pull, for the afternoon. I only thought-"

"I am unconcerned that you will harm me, little poet," Arum says, halfway to a snarl, and Damien stills, his lips pressing together in an expression that Arum cannot quite read. "And I do think the idea is ridiculous. However..." he growls, looking away for a moment. However. The story they and the Keep have told him piecemeal over the last day-and-half still spins uncertainly in Arum's mind, the idea that he and this slight, soft-eyed little human have clashed steel before and matched evenly-

Arum still cannot quite accept it. He believes them, trusts the pain in their eyes if nothing else, but the idea that he would have lost to so gentle a creature- it simply does not make sense. A duel, a contest of skill, now- Arum cannot say if he is at all convinced it may do anything to loosen the grip of this curse, but nevertheless Arum is tempted. If only, he thinks, for the chance to prove himself.

"However?" Sir Damien echoes, softly, and Arum snaps back to himself.

"If the both of you think it may have a chance..." he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "It is worth exploring, I suppose."

"Again," Amaryllis says, lifting a pointed hand, "it makes sense, but I don't think we should-"

"Get our hopes up," Arum finishes. "Obviously."

Amaryllis' lip curls up, not quite a smile, and then she shoots a look towards Damien. "Be careful, remember," she says sternly, and the poet presses a hand over his heart.

"I swear," he says. "Always."

The look on Amaryllis' face at that leads Arum to suspect that the poet is not, in fact, always careful. Arum frowns.

"How shall we begin, then? I imagine you suggested that we come to the greenhouse because it will give us ample space, correct?"

"Yes." Damien gives a small sort of smile. "The game is to try to pin each other. Despite Rilla's- frequent suggestions, we have... not yet transitioned to sparring with practice weaponry. Bladed combat is your preferred, and I am rather flexible, so typically we duel with knives." He pauses. "Yours, if you would be willing to allow me the use of one. Otherwise- well, I could ask the Keep to allow me to step into Rilla's hut for a moment to retrieve-"

"We may as well do this properly," Arum says, shrugging, and then he draws one of his knives and, on a strange sort of whim, whips it out to sink into the bark of the tree beside Damien's head. The knight does not flinch, surprisingly, though he does blink as the Keep warbles a chastising note. "Oh be quiet," Arum mutters. "The bark is thick, it will be fine."

Damien turns, carefully pulling the blade back out, his fingers curling around the hilt with a reverent sort of delicacy.

Arum unstraps one set of hilts, hanging them from another tree nearby, then draws his remaining blade, holding it unthreateningly at his side as he spares a look towards Amaryllis.

"Your priorities fascinate me, just so you are aware," he mutters. "Though you did not deign to ask, I will assure you as well that I will exercise caution. I will not cause the poet any undue harm."

Amaryllis presses her lips together, nearly smiling. "Appreciate that," she says after a moment, her tone very strange, and then she shoots Damien a look.

The poet shakes his head. "Keep, if you would?"

Arum blinks, but the Keep sings a note of acknowledgment and shutters the skylights slightly, dimming the greenhouse to a more muted palette.

"So no one may claim that the sun were in his eyes," Damien explains with a wry smile, and Arum wonders briefly which of them that particular amendment were made in deference to. "Is there anything else you need? A moment to collect yourself, or-"

"I am fully prepared to best you," Arum snaps, unsettled by the gentle concern in the poet's voice. "Are you ready?"

The poet inhales very slowly, exhales tranquility, my Saint in a breath, and then his lips tilt into a crooked smile.

"I am," he says.

"You are remarkably amenable to the situation," Arum says slowly, stalking closer, "considering that I did, in fact, nearly kill you yesterday morning. I feel I should give you another guarantee, for the sake of your comfort. I will not hurt you beyond what is necessary to beat you. You need not fear for your life."

"You sound so utterly certain," Damien says, a grin flashing across his face despite the pain in his eyes. "So confident that you will be the one of us who needs show mercy."

"I've never lost, little poet," Arum growls, stiff, and Damien glances for half a moment towards Rilla, and then he laughs.

"Ah, I am terribly sorry to disabuse you of that notion," he says, and Arum's scales prickle at the indulgent tone in his voice, "but that is no longer quite true, I should say."

Arum pauses, stewing in that assertion for a moment before he retorts. "He may have," he rumbles, attempting to smooth over his discomfort with cool, patient anger. "I have not."

"Hm," Damien says. "Yes, not to your memory, I suppose. I am sorry as well that we shall be so unevenly matched in this endeavor, friend monster."

"I will not tie two hands behind my back if you think that will make us more even, littl-"

"Oh," Damien laughs, "no, rather the opposite, in fact. It might be rather more fair if we gave you all the rest of your knives to match my one, I think, but I imagine that may injure your pride rather more than you would allow."

Arum pulls his head back, his lip curling over his teeth in a shocked sort of fury. "What?"

"I've a rather distinct advantage, I'm afraid."

Arum's eyes scrape down Damien's body, his lithe frame, his loose, unprepared stance, the knife held so casually in one delicate hand, and then raise up again to his smug smile. Arrogant thing, he thinks, hissing disdainfully. In need of a lesson. Arum should end this foolish little duel before it begins.

Arum darts forward, faster than a human should be able to see, but-

But Damien moves, a breath before Arum does, backstepping around Arum's lunge without even raising his knife.

"Ah," he says calmly as Arum exhales in shock. "So, we have begun, then? Very well, Lord Arum."

In the heartbeat it takes for Arum to regain his senses, the knight shifts his stance and raises his arm, scraping the length of his blade along Arum's own in a fluid motion, and as Arum flinches back Damien takes a calmer step away and assumes a stance-

A stance that tickles familiar in the back of Arum's mind.

A distraction, whether intentional or not, and Arum raises his blade again just in time to block Damien's first quick, testing strike. Arum growls instinctively, and the knight's mouth curves into a small, strange smile as he swings his knife again, an elegant practiced arc, and Arum blocks, catching the blades together.

"I've had quite a bit of practice," Damien says evenly, over the light scraping of metal on metal, "dueling with you, friend lizard." He angles his body, moving his wrist in such a way that he uses their clashing blades to draw Arum's face closer to his own, a molten heat in his eyes that Arum cannot seem to look away from. "Perhaps I should go easy on you, let you warm up a little."

Damien disengages, spinning as he steps away again, his footwork light as the wind, and it is not until he is no longer so close, until he is no longer invading Arum's space with his heat and his musical voice, it is not until he is out of reach that Arum realizes what the poet actually said. He snarls, sputtering as he brandishes his knife between them.

"Go easy on me? Arrogant- absurd, I do not need such practice to simply skewer such a foolish creature-"

"Go on and prove it, then," Damien says, his voice warm and unbothered.

Arum snarls again, crouching lower and watching the human step carefully, edging in an arc around Arum, and then Arum spins, whipping with his tail-

Sir Damien jumps over the tail with ample time, and he does not pause in the descent, swinging his arm down, the blade flashing, and Arum barely deflects the blow, and he needs to roll away to avoid Damien's next two quick strikes.

"Ah, yes," Damien grins wide as he continues to flash his wrist out, relentless as Arum blocks and parries and skips back, trying to get out of range. "It took some time to learn to anticipate that one, I will admit. You've certainly put me on my back more than once with that trick- though you've since needed to find means a bit more clever-"

"Must you-" Arum hisses, ducking, spinning, this little knight is quick, not as fast as Arum in technicality but with each movement Arum makes, Damien aims a blow towards whatever new opening Arum makes. "Must you chatter so, even-" another gasp, and then Arum leaps aside, putting enough space between Sir Damien and himself that he can catch his breath, can manage a sneer. "Not even in this do you cease prattling?"

"If I have breath enough to speak," Damien says, twirling Arum's knife absently between his fingers, "why should I not? I'm quite enjoying my time."

The knight's cheeks are flushed, just barely dark, but his aforementioned breath is even and easy and Arum hisses to hide his own gasping. "Are you?" Arum growls, and something in his stomach twists at Damien's warm smile.

"I always do," he says with a shrug, and then he darts forward, his next set of strikes less swift, but more forceful, more precise. "The exhilaration, the adrenaline of combat, but with the assurance of safety, the knowledge that it will end in laughter, rather than blood- oh, yes, I always take a rather great deal of pleasure in our time together, Lord Arum."

Arum tries to focus on his movements, on holding his ground enough that Damien cannot begin to crowd him backwards again. His words are- distracting, however.

"Is this- your tactic, then? Chattering away, sapping focus-"

"If you cannot focus on your blade and my words at the same time, Lord Arum-"

Arum swings his knife out viciously at that, and Damien grins hard as he spins out of the way. "Ah, there you are-"

His words are distracting- Arum steps back, steps back again, knows that he is losing ground. Damien lashes out, a strike Arum realizes he will not be able to counter, and the lizard throws himself backwards instead, unaware enough of his surroundings that he does not notice the tree behind him until his shoulder collides with it painfully.

"Ah-"

"Oh," Damien pauses, his eyes widening in concern, "oh- are you alright? I didn't mean-"

"Don't patronize me," Arum snaps, ignoring the bruising sting and darting forward. He swings his arm, their blades ringing against each other once, twice, and then on the third blow Damien pushes back enough that they are pressed close, their metal meeting between them with the edges of their blades scraping in a discordant song.

Damien twists his blade oddly against Arum's own, catching the hilts together and wrenching Arum's wrist at an odd enough angle that the lizard needs to lean his body forward to avoid dropping the hilt in pain.

Damien is too close, suddenly, pressing forward at the same time that Arum does, and then he maneuvers his leg just as Arum tries to step away, hooking his ankle behind Arum's and simply allowing Arum's own attempted movement to unsteady him, making his tail swing in a wild arc as he raises his arms to attempt to rebalance, but then-

Damien places his free hand, palm open, directly over Arum's heart, and pushes.

Arum's back hits the dirt before he fully knows what happened, breath escaping in a rush and his knife flying aside with a dull bouncing thud against the ground, and then Damien drops over him, knees on either side of his waist, pinning his lower arms against him as the knight presses his free arm over Arum's sternum like the trunk of a tree, holding him down.

Arum can hardly breathe, not from the pressure but from the surprise, from the rush, from the heat of Sir Damien crowding so exquisitely close, and the knight's eyes are bright and focused and intense. Then, Sir Damien raises his other hand.

The one with which he holds Lord Arum's knife.

Damien swings the blade down, and Arum remembers with self-loathing viciousness the burnt letter from the Senate, remembers the hateful whispery certainty of the hand which wrote the human infection will destroy you-

Arum closes his eyes.

He feels the rush of air on the scales of his face, hears a dull thunk, but-

No pain. No bloom of heat, no pulse of awareness of the blade plunging into his shoulder, his chest, his neck, and his eyes flutter back open in confusion to see how in the name of the Universe the human managed to miss-

The knife is planted in the dirt beside Arum's head; he can see the reflection of his own wide eye in the sheen of the blade. Damien is much closer now- necessary, of course, considering his grip on the hilt, but- but Arum can feel the way his chest moves with his panting breaths, can taste the adrenaline and sweat on the air, can hear Damien's heart, pounding steady, a sturdier beat than the frantic race of his own. The poet stares down at him, his eyes hot and hypnotic, and whatever biting comment Arum intended to make about Damien's aim dies on his tongue before he manages to open his mouth.

"Well, well," the poet says, and his voice is a low, sonorous, strange drawl as he leans heavy over Arum, one hand planted palm-flat to the dirt next to his face, the other (the hand that planted the knife on the other side) trailing up his shoulder, towards his neck. "It looks like the smallest trap is the one you finally fell for."

"I-" Arum blinks. "What?"

"And now," Damien continues, his sharp eyes flicking between Arum's own, "here you are, pinned beneath my claws..."

Damien's hand trails up his neck, his expression far more focused, now, than it had been during the fight, and then he grips Arum's throat, firm and possessive but not hard, not impeding his breath, and Arum- Arum's heart rushes prey-quick even as he understands what Damien is doing.

The words- the nonsense words, not nonsense at all- they must be what Arum himself had said, during one of their duels. Coming from this fierce, surprisingly skillful little creature, they make Arum feel flushed with heat that seems to pulse out from every single inch of his body where Damien touches him.

"A-ah," Arum manages, but not much besides. He cannot even convince himself to struggle against Damien's weight, Damien's hands.

Damien's expression shifts when he realizes that Arum has caught on. He leans closer, his grip on Arum's throat pressing gently to tilt his head to the side, letting him lean closer to murmur in Arum's ear.

"I love to make you panic," he breathes, and Arum flexes all his claws at once. "The sound of your pounding heart makes my stomach growl."

Arum-

Laughs. He cannot quite help himself, despite the fact that his heart is, in fact, pounding, and Damien blinks in surprise.

"Did I- did I really- I said that to you?" he manages, still feeling too hot, too crowded. Sir Damien is... very close.

The poet manages something like a smile, then, though he does not look happy. Arum imagines that he had been hoping... well, hoping that his words would trigger what the physicality of their duel did not. "You did," he says quietly, and his grip on Arum's neck softens, his thumb brushing along Arum's jaw in a way that makes his scales tingle with electricity. "Before you decided not to kill me."

Arum... is not quite certain, about that. Arum knows himself- likes to think he knows himself, at the very least, knows the layers of his lies, and if Damien's words are truly an echo of Arum's in the past, then Arum does not think he could have more obviously begged the knight to acknowledge him, to banter back, if he had outright said so. Could not have said that he preferred Damien alive more blatantly if he had presented his own neck for the blade instead. Perhaps he had not admitted it even to himself, yet, but-

"Ridiculous," he mutters, low and less biting than he would prefer.

Damien leans back, just slightly, his tawny eyes flicking between Arum's own, and his expression softens from his strained smile, going earnest and mournful and strange. He hesitates, biting his lip, and then he lifts his hand from Arum's jaw, drifting his fingers up the scales of Arum's cheek. His touch still feels- hot, sparking, as if the contact were prompting a small fissure of magic at the point they meet, and Arum holds his breath so that he does not gasp, instead.

Damien swallows, his heart beating a little faster, and then his lips part.

"Do you want... to try this?" Damien murmurs, his voice thick with sorrow and desire. "To try... us?"

Arum's breath catches in his throat, and he cannot seem to tear his eyes from Damien's-

He realizes, after a heartbeat, that he does not want to.

"I..." Arum swallows, tries to feel anything besides desperate and wanting. He tries, but- but their eyes, their voices and their tears and their hands- the sound of their hearts- the way the keep reaching for him- "I- I do. I do, Damien, I-"

Arum leans up. He feels- cracked through, his defenses tattered beyond salvage, if they want him- if they truly want him- Arum wants to try, to see if he is capable of earning the loyalty and affection these creatures continue to offer, again and again despite how viciously Arum pushes their hands aside. He wants to. He leans up, because he wants Damien to lean down.

Damien's eyes widen, his breath hitching, his muscles tensing, and Arum realizes with a sensation akin to his stomach falling through the floor that Damien's words were not the true question he assumed they were, not now, not in this moment, they were only-

Another echo. Another attempt to trigger a memory that Arum simply does not have. He was not asking- he does not want-

He does not want me, Arum thinks. He wants back only what he once had.

Arum drops his head, his horns pressing indents into the dirt beneath him, and he closes his eyes. Foolishness- foolishness he cannot even deny, now, and for what? For Damien to flinch away from him, to furrow his brow and pull back-

"Off," Arum manages through his teeth. "You've won."

"Arum, I'm-"

"Get off," he snarls, and when he feels Damien flinch above him he adds, quietly, "please."

The knight pulls away. Arum feels cold, and he hears Damien's feet scuffing in the dirt as he moves to stand again, and Arum forces himself to open his eyes again. He curls up, rolling to sit so he can rub at his shoulder for a moment, pretending to test the bruise to give himself a moment to breathe. His eyes flick up despite himself, just as Amaryllis reaches to grip Damien's wrist, squeezing with her lip twitching in a small, comforting smile, and some of the churning despair on Damien's face eases, and then they both look towards him, and Arum drops his eyes back to the dirt with his insides burning, and he hates-

He wants-

He digs his claws into the dirt and then shoves himself to stand. He brushes off his cape, and reaches down to retrieve his blades to slip back into their sheaths.

"Well," Arum says. "I suppose we should be grateful that none of us got our hopes up."

[End Notes: I really don't know very much about How Fighting Works, forgive me <3 ]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #going through changes ripping out pages #aaaaaAAAaaaAAAA DUEL TIME

8 notes · View notes

yakumtsaki · 3 years

Photo

Welcome, dear readers, to part 1 of the finale to the BackupKingdom2 saga! We’re in our final ambition now, let’s check how Liz’s post-divorce-bloodbath is going..

Oh yes, excellent. Our path to death-achievement-glory has been paved with so many executions that wherever I look I see npcs crying..

..comforting each other..

..and in Agnes' case, coming straight to Liz to.. ask for mercy for the populace I guess?? Bruh. I can't believe we even brought down AGNES, truly this is the saddest kingdom on earth. Amazing job, Liz, you've definitely earned your place in the tyrant hall of fame!

Now a lesser player would be like "oh, maybe we should chill a little on the insane tyrant thing, finish the Pirate/Noble arc cause we've been dragging this war out so the pirates/guildsmen would keep spawning and it should have ended like 20 quests ago" and true, we could just end it, we ran a very effective operation around here, shoutout to MVPs Donius and Bellinda and their 'seductive' legendary traits:

They bedded them and Liz beheaded them, the power of teamwork! So one could say that we should consider raising kingdom morale now because everyone is so depressed but I think, if anything, now is the time to ramp it up and go for some of the other morally questionable achievements! Like Machiavelli said, you should commit all your atrocities at once! What do you think, Liz? Ready to get atrocious?

-OH FUCK YEA, I’M ENRAGED, I DROPPED MY FIDDLE IN THE PIT AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE SERVANT TO GET ME A NEW ONE!! WHY DOES EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME >:(

Aw I’m sorry Liz, but I’m sure you the upcoming suffering of your subjects will cheer you up!

-Ok motherfuckers, by order of the Crown aka ME -you hear that Rae?? ME, NOT YOU. God I want to execute you so bad, fucking ingrate, do you remember what rags you were wearing when I hired you??

Let’s get this back on track, Liz.

-Right, so by order of the Crown, Magus Olivia and Spymaster Spainot are given COMPLETE LEGAL IMMUNITY to do whatever the fuck they want in the interest of earning achievements, so don’t you people come crying to me cause I don’t give one tiny chinchilla crap about your health and livelihoods. If you need me for something actually important, I'll be at the gates, executing anyone who doesn't like my fiddle playing.

-Oh man, this folksy peasant hat isn’t protecting my ears enough.

-THOUGHT I WOULDN’T HEAR YOUR LITTLE MURMUR, DID YOU -YOUR MAJESTY NO I ONLY MEANT MY EARS WERE COLD -WELL ALL OF YOUR BODY’S ABOUT TO BE COLD NOW! CONSTABLE, THROW THIS PEASANT IN THE PIT

-Death marker? I hardly know 'er!

So the Constable npc has this little Billy Elliot subplot going, I'm pretty sure he has the 'drunkard' fatal flaw because he was always at the tavern so I had Bellinda try to hire him to perform in one of her plays just to see what would happen and it actually worked, and now he moonlights as an actor! It's cute but it also takes forever for him to come arrest people.

-THEY LOVE ME ❤️😁 -CONSTABLE WHATSYOURNAME, COME OVER HERE AND DO YOUR FUCKING JOB OR YOU'RE NEXT FOR THE PIT

-No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, when someone dies😢

In the background you can see that Bellinda just got a pregnancy bump, it’s her lovechild with Donius, I for real can’t keep these two apart. Anyway, the time has come..

..to unleash Magus Olivia onto the populace.

-You know what, I'd rather not, this book is finally getting good and I'm sick of cursing peasants, it doesn't even drop their mood that much..

Oh no, Olivia my beloved, we're not cursing them, we're going for the 'Well Done' achievement!

-NO WAY.

WAY.

-Won't I be executed??

You have immunity! You can do whatever you want!! And, AND, once you complete it, because I know it's tiring, I'll give you a magic skeletal parrot as a gift!! Edward got all the materials for it while treasure-hunting, you'd think I'd let him keep it but that's not the kind of shop I'm running here.

-This is my face of pure, childlike happiness!

Good lord, it’s terrifying, please don’t look at me like that.

-Alright, time to roll down my sleeves so they look more sinister and do this thing.

You can do it, Olivia!

-Of course I can, save your reassurance for the flops that need it.

-I.. cast.. INFERNO!

...

-What?

I mean really, those are the words, "I cast inferno"? Can't you say something with more evil magical flair?

-Not when I have to cast it 80 fucking times I can't.

-IT BURNS, IT BURNSSSSS

Oh how the tables have turned, usually it's the witch that gets burned, huhu! Did you hear that, Olivia? Did you like my joke??

-Oh, it's beautiful!

Well it wasn't one of my best-

-Not you, you needy moron, the sight of burning flesh! I can't wait to do this 79 more times!

Alright, so everyone in the tavern has been turned into a chicken nugget, time to get some rest and check in with Spainot!

-Amazing news, Rodolfo, I just got royal permission to unlawfully lock up and interrogate whoever I want for the achievements!!!

-Darling, no offense, but aren't you a bit too shit at your job for that? -WHAT????

-FUCK YOU RODOLFO YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF MY SUCCESS -I WISH I WAS JEALOUS OF YOUR SUCCESS, THEN YOU'D BE SUCCESSFUL AND I WOULDN'T BE MARRIED TO A BROKE LOSER

-And then he says the only reason he hasn't dumped me is he doesn't wanna be a rando npc while Batshit Liz is on an execution spree, can you believe this bullshit? How can anyone be so hurtful??

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NO NO PLEASE DON'T HAVE THIS CHINCHILLA MAUL ME I'LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT

-How about you give me some marital advice, are you even listening?! Ugh.

That's right, while Olivia is inferno-ing the peasants, I've sicced Spainot on the nobility, specifically all those foreign diplomats that are always hanging in the reception hall, lagging up the place. We're going for the 100 interrogations achievement and we’ve installed a nice spiky torture chair right in the middle of the hall to save time! Now this is how we keep every stratum of society terrified enough to not realize that the person in charge is.. uh.. well you know:

-DANCE TO MY FIDDLE, PIRATE, DANCE!

-I AM!!!!!

-DANCE MORE ENTHUSIASTICALLY. ALL THE WAY TO THE PIT

After a couple days and several locations I feel we’re pretty close to 80 infernos!

I’d say we’ve burned a good 50-60% of the population at this point, everywhere I look I see singed townies-

-so we take this little barbecue to the palace because we’ve ran out of peasants and it’s time to start burning the foreign dignitaries. And it’s a good thing we do, because Olivia meets Nyrexis the Dragon!!!!

Nyrexis is the human form of the dragon from a hilar quest where there’s a dragon in the kingdom and you can either befriend it or slay it, I had Bellinda befriend it:

So if you complete the befriend route of the quest, the human form of the dragon appears in town and is in love with whoever did the quest, in this case Bellinda. I am of course not about to waste Dragonfu on Bellinda’s basic ass, plus I feel Olivia is kind of a dragon with all the people she’s been burning so they have a lot in common!

We dazzle Dragonfu with a coin trick! True magic at work.

-OMG IT WAS BEHIND MY EAR THE WHOLE TIME -I KNOW!

Good God, all of Olivia’s ‘happy’ expressions are terrifying, just don’t smile ever again, you’re too evil for it, you’re gonna scare the dragon away!

Or not!!!!

AWWWWW 🐲❤️🔮

You know what, fuck it, let’s lock it down, when it’s right it’s right!

-Burn stuff with me forever?? -I WILL!!!!

-We are gathered here today, under threat of fiery death, to join two unholy abominations in holy matrimony. Yes, the irony is not lost on me.

AW CONGRATS GUYS <3333 The wizard tower is so small and family un-friendly and Olivia is so unmaternal but come on, like I’m not gonna have her reproduce with a fucking dragon.

Back to Spainot, we’ve hit a slight bump, mainly that this Snordwich lord is proving fucking impossible to torture.

-Um.. Are you enjoying this??? -Sure am, bad boy, but why don’t we take this somewhere more private already?

Wtf, stop sexually harassing the innocent person who’s torturing you! Does no one around here have any sense of humanity anymore??

-Come on, Spainot, throw some flesh-eating rodents at him! -I’M BUILDING UP TO IT, RAE, GAWD. No one likes a back-seat torturer!

-HA, who’s the loser now, Rodolfo? Rodolfo?? RODOLFO

Ya Spai I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure he left while you were interrogating, I haven’t seen him in like 3 days.

-WHAT. So Olivia completes one achievement and gets a dragon wife and a magic skeletal bird and I complete three and get dumped?!

Well what do you want from me, I don’t make the rules!

-YES YOU DO

Can we move on, please? And Olivia had a very rough go of it-

-she got burned in some rando quest and looked positively karma-stricken after, inferno-ing left and right while sporting this look! She deserves a magic bird!

Congrats on your success and 4 kids, Olivia!

-I love this skeleton bird more than I thought it possible to ever love something.

-Gee, thanks mom.

We had leftover bones so here, Spainot, you get a magic bird too.

-A bone parrot is little comfort when you’ve lost the only bone that matters! Why Rodolfo, whyyyyy!!!!!!!!!

Oh I don’t know, probably because you challenged him to duels 3 times a day?

-No, that can’t be it.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but you look like a man who has nothing to live for?

-Yea, I certainly don’t.

So you wouldn’t mind like, jumping into the pit multiple times so you can get the parts we need for the hardest achievement in game aka Legendary Doomsword?

-Rodolfo had one of those too, it was legendary and now that it’s gone I’m doomed!!!

Ok ya ENOUGH metaphors about Rodolfo’s absent penis, although they really are writing themselves. We’ll get him back! If you survive all the pit jumping that is. Join us next time for part 2: Legendary Doomsword!

#tsm

51 notes · View notes