#all terrain scout transport

[jonberry555]

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar 12/17/2023

[nemesisthetoy]

Star Wars fans of Tumblr, I call on your knowledge!

[wannab-urs]

Written in the Stars - You Caught Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x Ezra (Prospect)

Series summary: The Mandalorian takes a job unlike any he’s ever had before. Driven by his guilt over working for the Empire, even indirectly, and the strange bond he formed with the man, Din rescues his bounty. What follows is not something either of them ever expected.

Chapter summary: Ezra awakes, suffering from an infection, to find he has been captured by an armored man.

Warnings: The Mandalorian/Prospect crossover AU, canon-typical violence, season 1 rewrite, eventual smut, slow burn, eventual romance, Ezra being a menace (verbally), non-sexual bondage, discussions of wound care and infection and other medical shit, very brief thoughts about Mando being hot. WC: 3.3k

a/n: I'm still not super confident about this fic, but I really hope yall like it. Cover collage by @atinylittlepain, betad by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @beskarandblasters, dividers by me and @saradika-graphics

Ezra Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Arvala-7

Din lands and checks that his tracking fob is blinking fast enough. The bounty is here.

He lowers the ramp to the razor crest and strides out onto the cracked and dusty surface of Arvala-7. He checks which direction to go before using the scope of his amban rifle to scout his surroundings. He catches sight of two blurrg in the distance, odd looking but seemingly harmless.

As he turns to scope out the area to his left, a blurrg suddenly appears at close range. Din tries to take it out with his flame thrower, but the bastard catches his entire arm in its mouth, slamming him to the ground. He gets repeatedly smashed into the ground and slung in the air, feeling as if his arm may rip clean off. He punches the blurrg with his left hand, throwing as much weight as he can behind it. The creature lets go, but immediately charges him again.

Just in time, a dart lands in the creature’s side, sending a shockwave through its body and rendering it immobile. As another blurrg makes its way toward Din, who is trapped beneath the first one, it is hit by another dart.

An Ugnaught rides up to Din on yet another blurrg – this one seems tame, thankfully.

“Thank you,” Din pants.

“You are a bounty hunter,” the Ugnaught states.

“Yes.”

“I will help you. I have spoken.”

Din gets up and follows the Ugnaught to his farm, which is not far from the ship.

The Ugnaught makes tea as he speaks with Din.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

Din did not know there had been others before him. He wonders if there are others competing with him now.

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

“Well, then I don't know if I want your help,” Din scoffs.

“You do. I can show you to the encampment.”

Considering his lack of knowledge of the terrain and his lack of suitable transport across this wasteland of a planet, Din supposes that would be helpful.

“What's your cut?”

“Half.”

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep,” Din shakes his head.

“No. Half of the blurrg you helped capture.”

“The blurrg? You can keep them both.” Why would he want a kriffing blurrg?

“No, you will need one. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

“ I don't know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

Taming a blurrg proves more difficult than Din expected. After she throws him to the ground an absurd number of times, Din finally manages to gain the creature’s trust. He hikes his leg over her back and takes her for a ride.

Shortly after, the Ugnaught leads Din across a cracked maze of muddy land – canyons have formed between the sections of cracked dirt that only a blurrg can jump over. They come upon a compound crawling with mercenaries, who all appear to be armed to the teeth. Din spots a blaster cannon and at least 60 men. Who is this bounty?

An IG unit stands in the middle of the fray, firing away and screaming about some code or other. Din grumbles about competition, his hopes of being the only hunter on the job dashed. And by a droid, no less.

Din drops to the edge of the makeshift battlefield.

“IG Unit! Stand down.” The droid shoots Din in his new pauldron, flinging his shoulder back painfully. “I'm in the Guild!” Din yells.

The two duck out of the way of a volley of blaster fire and hide behind a pillar.

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment,” the droid sounds annoyed, if that’s even possible.

“That makes two of us. So much for the element of surprise.”

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.”

“Unless I'm mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

Din fires a few shots from behind his cover, taking out three of the mercs.

“I have a suggestion.”

The IG unit takes out several men from the top of the compound, their bodies falling to the dirt below.

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

“This is acceptable.”

“Great. Now let's regroup, out of harm's way, and form a plan.”

There are way too many of them and Din wants to act as if they’ve given up so they can take the mercs by surprise that night. The bounty droid has other things on its mind though.

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Din fires off a few shots with his amban rifle, evaporating several mercs in the process.

“I require an answer if I am to proceed.”

The mercs advance on their position, pinning them in a corner with no way of escape.

The IG unit starts freaking out. He claims he cannot be captured and initiates a self-destruct sequence.

“Do not self-destruct! Cover me!”

Din runs to the door panel and tries to rip out the wiring, but quickly starts taking fire.

“There’s too many!”

“I will initiate self-destruct”

“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out.”

The mercenaries power up the blaster cannon and start firing at Din and the IG unit.

“Okay! New plan!”

“Beginning self-destruct countdown.”

“NO! Draw their fire and I’ll take it out.”

The IG unit runs out taking several hits and collapsing against the structure behind him. Din uses his grappling line to jerk the cannon out of the merc’s hands and shoots him before jumping on it and taking out every last mercenary in the vicinity.

Din goes to check on the droid. “Ya know… You’re not so bad. For a droid.”

They use the blaster cannon to get inside the large metal door, since ripping out the wiring hadn’t worked. Din takes out one last mercenary and starts searching the room for the bounty.

Din comes up on a man sleeping on the floor. He’s covered by a pile of ragged blankets and there is a bloodstain on the floor beside him.

“Well. They said 40 years old.”

“This does look to be our target,” the droid quips.

IG raises his blaster as if to shoot the sleeping man.

“No. We'll bring him in alive.”

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.”

He raises his blaster again, but Din is faster. Before the IG unit can even register his movement, there’s a hole in its head.

“Droids…” Din grumbles.

Din aims his blaster at the man and yanks back the blankets covering him. Din is stunned to find the man is missing his right arm, nothing more than a stump ending just below his shoulder. He briefly wonders if a blurrg got him.

Din toes him with his boot, keeping his blaster trained on him. The man doesn’t wake up. Din kicks him a bit harder and he still doesn’t stir, so he picks the man up and heaves him over his shoulders. He carries the man out to the blurrg the Ugnaught let him keep and ties him to its back like a saddlebag.

It’ll be a long walk back to the ship.

Ezra wakes up and realizes he is definitely not in the compound anymore. He’s very securely strapped to some sort of creature. A man clad in what looks like a helmet made of pure silver aims a rifle at two assailants and takes them out easily, evaporating them into nothing but scraps of fabric.

Barring an equally shiny pauldron, the rest of his armor is varying shades of red and brown – like rust. It’s quite the contrast and makes him appear like a rusted tin can.

The silver warrior doesn’t notice Ezra has woken up yet. Ezra reaches out with the Force, trying to get a read on the man’s intentions, but feels only his urge to protect. Until he knows what situation he’s found himself in, he thinks it’s best not to reveal himself and promptly slumps back into the beast, pretending to sleep.

Sometime into pretending, he does actually pass back out, the fever making it difficult to stay conscious for long periods of time. When he awakes, they have made camp for the night.

His arm is tied to his thigh, but he’s no longer strapped to that infernal animal. The warrior appears to be tending to a shoulder wound. If he could trust him, he would heal the man, but he is as yet unsure if this man is going to be his salvation or his damnation. All the same when he was probably going to die of infection anyway.

“Looks like a nasty wound, Tin Can,” he mumbles. His voice is rough from disuse. “I am well acquainted with grievous arm wounds.”

The silver helmet whips in his direction, the black visor leveling with his own stare. He thinks the Tin Can looks annoyed, somehow, despite the helmet.

“Quiet,” the man grumbles, his voice low and graveled.

“Name’s Ezra. And I am not inclined to suffer demands from my captor. Are you taking me back to the Imps?”

The Tin Can doesn’t answer, he simply returns to cauterizing the deep cut on his arm. Ezra takes that as his cue to turn in for the night. He adjusts his position as much as he can in his bound state and falls into another fitful sleep.

Ezra wakes up again and finds himself tied to the creature once more. The armored man has his rifle out and is disintegrating Jawas left and right. The little creatures are loading bits and pieces of a ship into their crawling fortress.

“I don’t think that’s very smart, Tin Can. Won’t ever get your shit back now.”

“Quiet.”

His captor is rude and clearly doesn't like chatter. Maybe Ezra can talk himself out of this kidnapping.

The Jawas quickly load into their land crawler and take off, the warrior right on their heels. He jumps up onto the ladder on the side of the crawler.

Ezra takes off on the creature he’s tied to – it seems to have taken a liking to him – and follows along behind the crawler at a gallop. He watches his captor nearly get slammed into a rockface, but he quickly pulls himself onto a ledge on the crawler.

He’s quite agile for someone covered in armor, Ezra thinks. The Tin Can is very capable indeed, scaling the side of the crawler first with only his hands and then with a grappling hook, all while being bombarded with random objects and shock batons. He makes it to the top of the crawler, despite his grappling hook being violently removed from the ship, and Ezra thinks he may actually succeed in reclaiming his ship parts from the Jawas.

A mere moment after the warrior crests the top of the crawler, he tumbles to the ground. Ezra fears the man may be dead. He isn’t sure why he’s worried, this man is his captor after all. Maybe it is something to do with being tied to a strange creature in the middle of a desert on a pretty unfamiliar planet.

Just then, the Tin Can gets back up. Resilient that one. He shakes off the fall and stomps across the wasteland and right past Ezra, simply expecting him to follow – which he does.

The armored man drops from the cockpit, entirely ignoring the ladder.

“Stripped. They kriffing stripped it.”

That’s the most words Ezra has heard from his captor since their journey together began. The anger he feels is so palpable to Ezra, he can almost taste its bitter tang.

“Will it fly?”

“No,” the man opens what looks like a storage cabinet to find it empty as well. He slams the doors closed angrily.

“So what are we going to do?”

“I am going to get my shit back. You are not going to do anything.”

The man is finally speaking in full sentences, albeit rude ones, and Ezra kind of wants to keep him talking. His low, graveled voice is quite appealing.

“Okay, Tin Can, how do you plan on recovering your items?”

“Stop asking questions. And stop calling me tin can.”

“You have not provided me with any other name by which to call you, my dear captor.”

“Mando. Call me Mando.”

“Alright, Mando. Lead the way.”

Mando suggests they walk to a farm nearby, where he knows someone that can likely help. Ezra lets himself be lifted back onto the creature, his body growing weak from all the excitement.

“Are you sick?”

“I fear I’ve contracted an infection from my emergency field surgery.”

“I have bacta. Had bacta. When we recover it, I’ll give it to you.”

“Why?” Ezra isn’t usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but his captor wasting such an expensive item on a bounty seems strange.

“You’re worth much more alive.” Ah, an investment then. That makes sense.

“Fair enough.”

Chants of “Suka! Suka! Suka!” drag Ezra from the black depths he was floating in. He slowly orients himself. He is on a sled mounted to two of the strange beasts he’s become very familiar with. His arm is once again tied to his thigh. An Ugnaught sits cross legged before a crowd of Jawas, Mando next to him – again managing to look exasperated despite not showing his face.

Mando stands and strides over to Ezra. “Good. You’re awake. Get on the crawler.”

“Where are we going?”

“The blasted creatures want a mudhorn egg.”

“This is going to go very poorly, you are indeed aware of that, I presume?”

“I’ll manage.”

Mando reaches down and pulls Ezra to his feet, maintaining a grip on him as they head into the crawler, the Jawas still chanting the entire way to the mudhorn lair.

Mando is much too large for the Jawa sized cockpit. He fills the space up quite nicely, in Ezra’s opinion. He does let slip a giggle when Mando’s shiny helmet slams into the ceiling during the bumpy ride, earning him what is certainly a withering glare.

Mando brings Ezra with him for some unknown reason, but leaves him tied up. It’s not like he’ll be able to help much, but he supposes the hunter doesn’t want to leave his bounty unattended.

Mando sloshes through the mud to the opening of the mudhorn’s cave. Ezra stays at the back of the valley, refusing to get any closer to certain death. Mando checks all of his weapons before stalking into the darkness.

Several minutes later, Ezra hears four rounds of blaster fire, quickly followed by Mando flying out of the cave and landing on his back.

“Ah, she’s awake then,” Ezra quips to no one. Mando is certainly not listening.

Mando tries for his rifle, the one that disintegrates entire beings into ash, but it appears to be jammed. So, Ezra surmises, we’re fucked. While he’s busy kriffing around with the rifle, Mando gets rammed again, flying almost to the back of the valley where Ezra stands.

The mudhorn observes his unmoving form and charges at Ezra instead. Shit. Ezra waits until the heifer is nearly on him and then dives out of the way. His landing is hard, with no arms to break his fall, but he’s okay.

The beast turns on Mando again, who has just started to stand, and smashes him into the ground with its horn. While flames and grappling hooks fly, Ezra wedges the prongs of the discarded rifle under his ropes. He wiggles back and forth, trying to break the tie as Mando gets dragged around by his grappling line.

Ezra’s ropes snap just as Mando gets thrown across the valley once again. That armor must be incredibly strong. Just as the mudhorn sets off toward Mando for the killing blow, Ezra concentrates. He draws on the energy around him and lifts the mudhorn into the air without so much as touching it. He holds it up for a moment and then, closing his eyes, slams it down into the ground as hard as he can.

Mando dives forward with his vibroblade and jams it into the neck of the stunned creature. He drives it as deep as possible, funneling the rage that built up over the course of the battle into his blade before dragging it out of the mudhorn and sheathing it.

Ezra slumps to the ground, completely exhausted. Mando limps over to him, his cuirass completely destroyed, but otherwise seemingly intact.

“You could have done that the whole time?”

“Firstly, I was bound and needed use of my hand. Secondly, I had to exact some form of revenge for capturing me, but I do not wish to see you dead.”

“Why not?”

“You killed all of my protectors. I am alone on this planet and you’re my only way off it,” Ezra says weakly. His consciousness is fading fast. Mando pulls him to his feet, pulling his arm over his shoulder, and half drags Ezra back to the crawler.

Din lays Ezra on the sled, passed out completely. Din and the Ugnaught load up all of his gear as the Jawas devour the egg. All that work for a stupid egg.,

Once everything is loaded up, the three make their way back to Din’s ship.

“Is he still sleeping?”

“Yes.” Din was worried that Ezra had pushed himself too hard and gave him the bacta shot as soon as he had his hands on it.

“Was he injured?”

“No. Not physically. But he had an infection from removing his arm.”

“Explain it to me again, I still don’t understand what happened.”

“Neither do I.” He’s never seen anything like it.

Mando and the Ugnaught spend all night repairing the ship while Ezra sleeps in Din’s bunk. He can’t put him in carbonite with the still healing wound of his stump. He would almost certainly die.

“Good luck with the bounty. May he survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.” The Ugnaught nods sagely and takes off on his blurrg.

Ezra wakes up in a dark enclosed space, the chill indicating he’s on Mando’s ship. He feels better than he has in weeks, though the mat he’s sleeping on is not much better than the pile of ragged blankets he’d called a bed for several standard weeks.

Ezra stands, steadying himself before feeling along the wall for a way to open the door. His hand finds a button and the door whooshes open. He climbs out into a small space. He’s been here before, the cargo hold of Mando’s ship. It’s crowded with crates, without much room to walk around. He spies the ladder to the cockpit and assumes Mando will be up there.

He very carefully climbs the ladder, still learning how to do things with his off hand, and pokes his head into the cockpit. Mando sits in the pilot’s seat in front of three transparisteel screens that make up the front of the ship. A massive console fills almost half the room up to where Mando sits. There’s a jumpseat behind and to the right of Mando that Ezra decides to make his own.

“No bounties in the cockpit,” Mando grumbles as Ezra plops into the seat, but he makes no move to remove him.

“Shouldn’t have left me untied then, Tin Can.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You insist on behaving like a rusted old sod and so I will refer to you as one.”

Mando doesn’t answer, so Ezra begins telling a story about channel rats in one of his ships. He unscrews a metal ball from a handle as he does so and begins to levitate it around the cockpit.

“Put that back. Don’t touch anything.”

Ezra simply pings the ball off Mando’s silver head, chuckling, and resumes telling the man about killing channel rats.

@beskarandblasters @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @electriclasso @schnarfer @alltheglitterandtheroar @survivingandenduring @catchallfangirl @nerdieforpedro @yorksgirl @heareball @morallyinept @jksprincess10 @julesonrecord @atinylittlepain

[inistellan]

Stellan perched atop the jagged hill adjacent to their camp in Hallowfall, silenced sniper rifle at the ready in case anything thought of breaching the light. He himself sat in the eerie darkness that the void phase of Beledar cast over the lands, melded into the shadows so neither friend nor foe would be able to locate him. Perhaps others would find it a poor choice to not stay within the safety of a brazier’s light, but Stellan preferred it this way. His eyes were able to adjust to the darkness and he had a full view of their camp, as well as neighboring camps and the surrounding lands. Not to mention that all matter of creature to be found here wasn’t exactly smart or had possessed much will to scout around the tops of a rocky ledge.

As long as he remained silent, he remained safe.

The faint tremors of the ground didn’t quite reach his location, but the confused expressions painting the faces below was enough to know something was about to happen. Peering down the scope of his rifle he watched with an expectant expression as the ground split open inside the neighboring camp, toppling their brazier and other sources of light until they were bathed in shadows.

As expected, Talonoa immediately sprang into action. The man never slept, he never needed to sleep, and instead he spent his free time keeping watch or helping around the camp. No one questioned it, or his peculiar powers. Some things were best left unknown.

Eyes darted around, making a mental note where his own people were and what they were currently doing. While they did a great job at watching each other’s backs, it was dark and the enemy was numerous. With a gentle pull of his trigger he demolished the hooked pincer swinging for Fiorenze, and then the many-eyed face of a spider-like creature making a dash for Dicenne. Luckily for him, the air down here was still and not as many factors had to be taken into account for aim accuracy. Not that he ever missed his targets, at least not recently, this had been his life for many, many years.

The insectoids were swiftly picked off little by little, focusing mostly on the ones seeking to attack his own people, and secondly on those they were trying to save. The moment seemed to happen in the blink of an eye with the amount of focus he maintained throughout, and when he was finally able to relax, he hadn’t realized how long he was sitting in the same position. With a few soft pops, Stellan took to his feet and made his way down the rugged terrain and into the camp, first making eye contact with Talon to let the elder know he was safe.

The chaos of the fight had given way to a different type of chaos in the camp. Everyone scurried about collecting first aid supplies while the healers worked tirelessly to fix what they could. The casualties would be many in the other camp, but not as many if they had not been there to help. 

He surveyed the area, eyes landing on the Garren who seemed to be just staring down at his hands. The poor guy had been through so much in his young life already, and top of that his father was now actively missing and likely dead. Stellan had taken it upon himself to look after him when he was able, and help him with his aim - although he was already quite good for his age. “Garren, you okay?” Stellan made his approach from the side, eyes darting from Garren’s face to his bloodied hands.

Garren blinked out of the daze he had found himself in, “Yeah just…just forgot what I was doing.”

“It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and you can go help with collecting some extra clothes for our guests.” Pulling him away from the healing tent seemed the best course of action. He could spot deep-seated war trauma from a mile away.

It was going to be a long night, and a long rest of the day. Once Beledar made its shift to Light, they would more than likely be transporting the wounded somewhere safer where they could get more help before having to return to their own contract. There was still a job here to be done.

@themercenaries @talonoa @fio-renze @dicenne @garrennorassin

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Ryan Church for The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary. A Mandalorian and another fighter are shooting at an Imperial AT-ST. Calendar from DataWorks.

Grogu wondered if they had left Sorgan a little too quickly. After all it was a nice planet. Cara Dune had taken care of that one bounty hunter who had managed to find them on a skug hole in the middle of no where. He and the Mandalorian were beginning to get to know each other a little better. Why leave now? Especially since there was an old piece of Imperial equipment on the planet that had absolutely no business being there. That AT-ST was a problem.

Not in and of itself. Not any more. It was destroyed. It had been touch and go, but eventually the Mandalorian and the fine people of the krill farming collective had managed to deal with it and the Klatooinian raiders who operated it. But it was still a problem. Where did it come from? Why was it there at all? Were there any other pieces of left over Imperial equipment on the planet? 

Grogu was pretty sure that this sort of event fell under the heading of where there is smoke there is fire. He was even willing to fall back to a Jedi standard of risk management which stated that if one thing appeared to be out of place on a planet, an investigation into similar non-sequiturs should be undertaken sooner, rather than later. There was just too much that they hadn’t known about it, plain and simple.

For example, the Klatooinian raiders didn’t appear to have any air support or other mechanized transport of any kind. They had attacked the village on foot. Their only advantage was the AT-ST. So how did they manage to get their hands on an All Terrain Scout Transport to begin with? It seemed unlikely to Grogu that they had somehow brought it with them. Sorgan had such a small population the raiders could have run the whole planet if they’d had the ability to bring it to Sorgan from wherever else they had come from. 

Grogu thought it was likely that the Klatooinians had found the transport on Sorgan. If that was true, why was it even there? Sorgan was not a strategic location for the Old Republic, the Empire, or even the New Republic. At least not an obvious one. It’s two exports were Spotchka, a fermented drink made from krill, and pickled krill sauce. Everything else they had they were importing. But no one involved in the farming collective had imported an AT-ST. If they had, they wouldn’t have needed the Mandalorian’s help in dealing with the Klatooinians. So why was it there?

Grogu suspected that the Empire or one of it’s former, wayward, war lords, had found Sorgan interesting because no one else did. It had a tiny population focused on farming. They had almost no infrastructure. They couldn’t defend themselves against a small band of Klatooinians. It was a perfect planet to set up a secret something on. 

Grogu had no idea what that secret something was and when he tried to engage the Mandalorian in a discussion of unknown risks on Sorgan, he was ignored. Well, that was to be expected. Din Djarin didn’t think that Grogu understood Gal Basic and Grogu really hated trying to communicate in that language. It was so clunky and hard to pronounce and it had a grammar structure that left a lot to be desired. 

If he had been able to have that discussion he would have also brought up a couple of other things that puzzled him. One of them was pretty simple. How had Cara Dune gotten there and why wasn’t she doing anything about the Klatooinians? The other was a little more mystifying. Why fight the Klatooinians from the ground?

The Razor Crest was outfitted with front mounted laser canons. Why bother teaching people how to be soldiers, when they could have just located the AT-ST with the sensors on the Razor Crest and then blasted it to it’s component atoms?

Was the Mandalorian worried that people might realize that he had the ship? Or was he worried that it might get a scratch on it? After all the stuff that Jawas on Arvala-7 had done to the ship was he just trying to protect it from everyone and everything? Grogu supposed that was possible. 

After all the Razor Crest was the Mandalorian’s home. It wasn’t just a ship. All of his stuff was on it and he’d just about lost his mind when the Jawas had taken it apart, forcing him to put it back together with Kuiil’s help. Grogu knew that it wasn’t working quite perfectly, but he had no idea how to help with that. That was a gap in his education that he really wanted to fill in, but so far he hadn’t had a chance. 

Was that it? He just didn’t want his precious ship to be damaged by the AT-ST? Maybe. It really seemed to Grogu that the Mandalorian found a harder way to solve the problem than was strictly necessary, but if that was the Way, fine. That was not a mystery that Grogu needed to solve right now anyway. 

He didn’t need to solve the other one about Cara Dune either. But he wasn’t going to forget about figuring out why the AT-ST had been there at all. Not like everyone else. He owed it to Winta and her mom to determine whether or not they faced a hidden threat. They had been very kind to him and he wasn't going to forget that either.

 Concept art by Ryan Church for The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary. A Mandalorian and another fighter are shooting at an Imperial AT-ST.

[chicken-cabal-games]

Weekly Report

Hello once again, this time we wanted to report our progress over the last week! We've managed to implement infantry transport and scouting to our game Anabasis. You can now load troops into trucks, or use scout units to carefully scout ahead of the main force. We've also added a WIP encyclopedia containing units, their statistics, tidbits and tactics as well as game tutorials. On top of all this, we now have icons for statistics to help better represent each of their role while in battle as well as a terrain tool to examine the field. We also wanted to take a moment to thank everyone following us. Every like and reblog means a lot to us and helps us show our work to ever more people. See you soon for another unit showcase!

[divinityunleashed]

Location - Leanbox Airspace

BGM: Star Wars - Imperial Fleet Mashup

Just on the left side of Leanbox, a fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers was hiding amongst the clouds, poised to strike.

Despite Captain Rex's warning and call to aid, they would be too late.

At the centre of the fleet, the Chimaera:

Was calling the shots. Led by Grand Admiral Thrawn himself, Leanbox was the first target of their arrival thanks to the intervention of Adult Neptune. The first landfall, was about to begin...

A mountain range on the central Island known as MS Mountain was to be the sector of approach. There, one of the smaller ISD's landed, and unloaded:

9,700 Stormtroopers:

30 All Terrain Scout Transports:

20 All Terrain Armoured Transports:

Thrawn watched from a distance as these troops made landfall and began to establish a FOB - a Forward Operating Base, on Leanboxian Soil, readying themselves for a firefight.

[sages-shack]

TOH AU Info Dump 🧵:

Keep in mind that this infodump is still very much a work in progress, as it is part of a group effort! I also have two books on Wattpad that I'm working on completing right now ;)

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RANKS:

Elites- The royal family, King Xyxion, and her descendants. (children, grandchildren, etc.)

Elders- The planets, life and death, light, space and time, and other elements that make up the universe. As the oldest star-children apart from Xyxion, these star-children were given the elder title. She entrusted them to influence his decisions and assigned them to his council.

Dreamweavers: Dreamweavers have the unique ability to enter the dreams of other star-children and communicate with them through the dream realm. They are often sought after for their guidance and wisdom, as dreams are believed to hold important insights and prophecies. They work closely with the Elders to interpret dreams and visions.

Constellations- Groups of stars that carefully select trials that all neophytes must surpass to gain their titles. These trials test their wisdom, strength, and resourcefulness. On top of testing the neophytes, the constellations are in charge of the justice system.

Preservers- As the brightest of stars, they serve as bodyguards to Xyxion and the elders. They are treated with the utmost respect and are pretty much pampered by Xyxion in return for their service.

Curators- Led by the planet and goddess of war, Mars, curators serve as generals in the army. They command large units of scouts and plan their operations in the field.

The Grand Huntsman- A title given to Elerin by the titan trappers, and later passed on to Ezmune.

Starforgers: Starforgers are responsible for the creation of celestial weaponry and defenses. They craft powerful weapons imbued with the energy of the stars, which can be used in times of war or to protect their homeland from external threats.

Collectors- Led by King Xyxion, collectors are responsible for harvesting materials from foreign terrains and transporting them back to the homeland for the archivists to preserve. Each collector has their unique way of collecting, such as scrolls, curses, globes, and many more. This rank is the only one that can UNDO a collection, as it is their specialty. If a material is collected, and there are no collectors around to reverse it, it remains in its collected form until it is handled. Collectors are VERY picky with the resources that they harvest and are quick to discard anything they deem as having little or no benefit for the homeland. This has resulted in shortages of materials and required collectors to venture back into foreign terrain and gather more supplies. Each patrol of collectors is supervised by two or more scouts as a precautionary measure. Collectors can defend themselves, but they aren't specially trained for combat like scouts are.

Archivists- Led by the planet Mercury, the archivists' job is to preserve the materials harvested by collectors. They preserve resources to be used later, in case it is eliminated on its original planet. Archivists are scholars and spend a large chunk of their time researching their possessions and the abilities they could harness from them. Archivists are very dedicated to their jobs and are held in high regard by Xyxion. The king works closely with Mercury and supervises both collectors and archivists.

Scouts- Led by the planet Mars and her curators, scouts are the soldiers of the starchild society. Scouts are the newest ranks, only made after Lilan attacked the homeland. They are responsible for fighting all wars and leading attacks on enemy planets. When not occupied with battle, scouts accompany collectors on their missions. Scouts (obviously) are behind the genocide of the Titan race.

Keepers- Previously occupied by Lilan, this position was filled by Tukturjuit. The keeper is responsible for the safety and well-being of all proto-stars in their care.

Neophytes- Apprentices who are under training and preparing to become archivists, collectors, star-forgers, or scouts.

Protostars- Very young star-children, babies, and kids. Protostars are well-protected and kept in the homeland's nursery where they are watched over by the keeper when they're not with their parents. They are not allowed to leave until they become Neophytes and have mentors accompanying them.

Watchers- The watchers' job is apparent. They watch those who stray from their homeland and keep a sharp eye on them at all times. Should a collector overstep a boundary or dabble in affairs that they shouldn't, watchers will report back to Xyxion. Watchers are subservient to those who summon them, acting almost as puppets. Their magic type depends on which starchild summoned them.

Lost stars- There are two types of lost stars: those who were led astray by Lilan and never found their way home, and stars that did not originate from the homeland and were accepted into society later in their lives. They are often treated poorly, being considered outsiders. Lost stars are the lowest of ranks, even beneath the watchers.

Menders: Skilled in the art of celestial healing, they use cosmic energies to mend wounds and cure ailments. They play a crucial role in the well-being of the starchild community.

Celestial Engineers: Skilled architects and builders who design and construct the grand structures, cities, and fortifications in the homeland. They work closely with the Star-forgers to integrate celestial defenses into the architecture.

Astral Navigators: Expert astronomers and navigators who guide the society's ships through the cosmos. They study the celestial bodies to predict safe travel routes and explore new territories.

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LIFE ON NEBULOUS:

Moonvines: Silvery, metallic vines that thrive underneath the light of the moon. These vines are the origin of Luneberries, and can be used for wound treatment.

Luneberries- Luneberries have a protective, hard outer layer that mimics moon rock, and inside is a tart silver berry. The starchildren must crack open the outer layer to harvest the berries.

Star fruit- Star fruit originates from Planet Nebulous, only becoming an invasive species on Earth after Lilan brought them to the mortals as a gift.

Sundews- Sundews are beautiful, blood-orange flowers that grow juicy, bitter fruits conveniently shaped like suns. How silly! After Lilan attempted to eradicate Nebulous, Xyxion destroyed the sundews that remained near the palace, and now they only exist in sun towns.

Angel butterflies- Very similar to the butterflies we see in FTF with the collector's face imprinted on them, but instead their wings resemble an angel's. Sometimes, they are consumed… though it's not the most popular snack.

Eterniums- Plant that grows bright, blue crystals due to the potent magic that Nebulous's soil consists of.

Mushroom trees- Ginormous, purple mushrooms with white, hanging tendrils that wrap around any unsuspecting creature passing by and squeeze the life out of them. VERY DANGEROUS to young protostars, relatively harmless to adults.

Unicorns- Unicorns gain their magic through consuming the Eterniums. Their rich meat is considered a delicacy in the star society.

Phoenixes- Birds of fire, with radiant glowing feathers. They have the ability blast flames from their beaks and can regenerate from their own ashes. They are relatives of Nebularks.

AuroraFish- These radiant, glowing creatures swim through the vibrant skies of Nebulous, finding their home amongst the nebula-like clouds. They change colors like LED lights!!

Sea Stars- Another creature that originated from Nebulous, which ended up on Earth alongside the mortals.

Nebularks-Birdlike creatures with feathers that resemble swirling nebulas, their chirping is very melodious and can soothe anxiety.

Stormchasers- Serpentine creatures born from lightning, they are covered in shimmering scales. They generate electricity that is discharged from spines on their backs. May be an ancestor of Electric Eels.

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NOW ONTO SOME HOLIDAYS AND TRADITIONS!!! >:)

★ Meteor showers are displays made by the elders to commemorate fallen star children who were lost as a result of Lilan's actions, these honorary days are called Ημέρα των πεσόντων

★ There are celebrations whenever the planets align because it symbolizes peace. This celebration is called Το σύμπαν της ειρήνης.

★ Starchildren celebrate the harvest moon at Xyxion's palace, where he has a feast prepared. Dishes from Earth, and the homeland alike, are served there. This holiday is called Η νύχτα του φεγγαριού του θερισμού

★ Starchildren celebrate the creation of the universe every turn of the century, and the holiday is called Creatio Omnium. On this holiday, they have a parade in front of Xyxion's palace. They paint their faces in the colors of different planets, sing songs, and leave gifts for the elders. During Creatio Omnium, neophytes and mentors partake in a ritual where they exchange small cosmic tokens symbolizing mentorship and guidance.

★ In spring, they collect plants, flowers, and moss from the earth and decorate their homeland to be more in tune with nature. They eat seasonal foods such as strawberries, blueberries, and an assortment of vegetables.

★ For the summer solstice, they bring the moon closer to the earth to raise the tides and collect washed-up shells, teeth, and sea glass.

★ During the winter, they tilt the sun away from the earth, freeze over bodies of water, and adorn animals with their winter coats.

★ It is common practice to spread the remains of a star, that way new solar systems can form out of their stardust. In very rare cases, stardust will form a new vessel for the host to become part of.

★ A darker, more sinister tradition was implemented once the starchildren began forcefully invading other planets. They would plaster their victim's belongings/remains on the walls as trophies.

★ Competitivity is encouraged in the starchildren society, and they hold magic-related Olympic events for neophytes and adults alike to participate in and bring home rewards. One such activity is Meteor Racing. Star-children ride specially enchanted Meteors through the cosmos!

★ During rare celestial events such as solar or lunar eclipses, starchildren participate in an elaborate masquerade ball. They wear intricate masks that represent their identities, and the event is marked by enchanting dances and celestial music.

★ Starlight Vigil: Starchildren hold a solemn night of reflection and remembrance on the anniversary of Lilan's attack. They light candles and release lanterns into the sky, symbolizing the resilience of their society.

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OK ABOUT THEIR LANGUAGE, THIS SECTION ISN'T TOO DETAILED YET.

Αστεράκια is a dialect coined by the star-children. This language is composed of celestial imagery, each symbol correlating to its own unique letter. Αστεράκια is a language mostly used in the form of writing, but for the scouts that worked with the trappers, it became a vital means of communication that titans couldn't understand.

Each spoken letter of Αστεράκια correlates to a musical sound that star-children mimic to pronounce them. It's almost like birdsong, ironically.

This form of Αστεράκια is called τραγούδι των αστεριών / Song Of The Stars.

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SOME FUN FACTS!!! >:D

★ In order to help collectors and scouts find their way back home, Constella created Halley's Comet. This comet orbits around the sun, which is near the homeland. If a starchild sees this comet, it's a sign that they're on the right path.

★ Lilan was the first starchild to make a deal with outsiders, and coined the term "pinky swear".

★ Teenage collectors get space acne bumps in the shapes of different celestial objects. In the case of moons, they get craters on their skin. Suns get sunspots.

★ In the case of beings like Elerin, they sneeze out clouds and sweat up rainstorms. When frightened, lightning may shoot out of their body.

★ Pluto is no longer considered a planet because he changed his name to JJ, and left Nebulous to become a space cowboy.

★ Elders and their descendants have "true forms" which are more grotesque and terrifying, so they adopt a more humanoid figure to lower the chances of frightening the mortal beings that they encounter.

★ Mortal heaven is managed by Uranus, who is somehow still alive…???

★ Speaking of Uranus, his name is ACTUALLY pronounced (yer-unnus), but Pluto entered the dreams of mortals and convinced them it was pronounced like anus, because he's a silly goose like that. Uranus is NOT happy about this.

★ King and his siblings are direct descendants of Elerin through Vidia (Titan Trapper Island titan) who is a hybrid child of a cosmic scout and a titan.

★ In this AU, when Luz is revived, Calypso actually gets an apology message from the BI titan.

★ Calypso and King go on space adventures together whenever Calypso returns to the isles to pick him up. Don't worry, King has a space suit!

★ The oldest living titan is named Behemoth.

★ Once all of the trappers are dealt with, TTI is maintained by two young titans named Meevin and Spaghetti, who spread new plant life all across the island to help it thrive again. The wildflowers on TTI are a memorial to all the slain Titans.

★ Skulls are fished from the boiling sea, and salvaged from the trapper base to be given a proper funeral like they have always deserved.

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THIS CONCLUDES ALL OF THE INFO I CAN GIVE WITHOUT MAJOR SPOILERS! (I THINK....)

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[polysscale]

Star Wars All Terrain Scout Transport AT-ST #ScaleModel #Miniature #ModelKit

[senatushq]

“Remember that a sword held by someone who is about to die will never be able to protect anything.” - Alzira

At dawn, the resistance began to move. 

In the Draconic City above, Rhovanor, Eoin, Ezekiel, Nathaniel, Gael, and Zagreus landed by virtue of Felandaris’ magic. Transported there and shielded from psychic detection by Rhovanor while Sanem’s apparatuses prevented their magic from being discovered. It was here that Pelorus, Echion, Udaeus, and Hyperenor rested in between excursions. The world was all but purged and the dracaenic vessels of dragon-deities had little to fear from what few rebels remained. The world was theirs, they had won. Deep within Tiamat’s fortress, Pluto scrubbed at the scales of the dragon, her children Demetria and Mordukhavar scorning him as he did. Caio filed his nails and watched, basking in all his good fortune. In the distance Pluto felt the approach of someone from his bloodline, but as the Great Old Ones ridiculed him the original vampire remained silent. This was the first inclination of hope that he’d felt for a decade. The six rebels made their way into the bowels of the city, and it was here that they took up their position and waited. Keket was their soul priority, even if it killed them she had to be free. 

In the heart of Forsaken Rome, Emory, Xerxes, Nirvaan, Andruil, Prometheus, and Adatiel slipped from the catacombs below onto the streets above. The ruins of Rome that had been left were transformed into a city of pure, Elysian Gold; Eldritch Technology controlled the city as automatons, illithids, and demons patrolled alongside the Archfiends of the Inferno. The heart of the industrial system, it was here that Renfield had his true body. The minds of those he controlled embedded with his tentacles were only puppets, but it was here that the captured halfbloodeds were kept and made to use their magic constantly. Rawlins, Cloe, Micah, Ismael, and Blair among them. Harellan, Narcissus, Soren, Komos, and The Bottle lingered here. Protecting it, guarding it. The rebels’ target was Trivia, however, as a problem was created that only her magic could solve, the rebels moved in secret to draw several very large summoning circles.   

In the ruins below Forsaken Rome, in what was once Necromanteion’s lowest ritual chamber, Gaybe, Esme, Serissa, Ayla, Cedric, and Atarniel navigated the underground terrain to try and locate the body of the deceased spartoi, Cthonius. Cedric scouted the caverns ahead, searching for weak points and inconsistencies as Esme moved the earth to clear a path forward. Work was slow and methodical, high above Pelorus was always looking, and always searching. Inside his vessel the spartoi was screaming, why was he being made to work so much? He'd been lied to! Lazy Pelly-chan. Gaybe had given them a relative location, he could see the chamber, and he could see the rock patterns that surrounded it, but it was Serissa and Atarniel who carved their way through the creatures that patrolled. Careful not to alert the hive minded illithids, each was pinned, their magic cut off, and then cut down. 

In the fortified perimeter of Forsaken Rome, the grove of Telperion had grown; fertilised by the bodies of countless fey and elves, the trees were nearing maturity. The first crop of ambrosia would secure the powerlines of the Great Old Ones and give them strength enough to destroy the incursion of the Clockwork creatures outside the borders of their realm. Renfield had already learned how to harvest them for their power, had mapped the blueprint of their souls, and all that remained now was to destroy these creatures once and for all. It was here that the remainder of the Great Old Ones patrolled: Ilsensine (Marzia Bianchi), Luna, Assan, and The Despair. Between Forsaken of Rome and the silver orchard, a great wall of living flames erupted: Titania, Rainer, Mars, Juno, Venus, and Melpomene began their assault, to free the fey, and to create a sizable distraction. 

As the strike against the Telperion orchard began, Atarniel slipped into the body of Cthonius while those beneath Forsaken Rome used the fusion of Sanem’s technology and Felandaris’ magic to transport herself back to the lair. The body of the demigod abandoned on the slab, Atarniel returned to her previous form and set to make her way back up to the surface alongside the others. Chaos would soon fall through the streets and they were resolved to meet it head one. It was above the ground that they joined the rebels seeking to liberate Trivia from her bindings. 

To quell the flames that would not allow anyone to support the forces at the Telperion forest, Soren dragged Trivia from the bowels of her cell. Deep within the network of the city, The wall of fire went up, they were given the all clear from the rebels below and from the street they watched as Trivia was marched forward; Nirvaan’s power, activated by Felandaris and Sanem’s technology, triggered the transformation of the Fallen Aasimar. At blinding speed Soren was eviscerated before Nirvaan turned his attention to the enemies that immediately began to fall upon them. Renfield had embedded himself into the very framework of Forsaken Rome. Where The Great Old One ended and the organic technology began was indistinct, but he was still organic and everything connected back to him. Prometheus placed his hands upon Trivia and felt Renfield’s power screaming into his mind, but not before he severed the connection to not just the original witch, but the halfbloodeds held captive as well. 

Trivia’s mind was still broken, her identity practically erased, but she was still powerful. A coven was more than a collective of witches, it could be any number of people bound together through the witches’ mark. It wasn’t perfect, but Emory had studied it long enough to be able to link himself to the rest of the rebels, he marked each of the rebels with a rose in bloom and tethered them together like any coven. Emory invoked Trivia's name, her power, and her magic over the Otherworld; then he used it to do three things, one was to rip open the sky, the other was to conjure Remus back from The Void. From there, and the last was to bring the Lycaon's feral pack of lycans into the heart of it all.

Below the Draconic City in Forsaken Rome, chaos had erupted. Tiamat’s children descended towards the Telperion, that was their prize and what they valued most of all. Titania, Melpomene, their Blade, and their vampires would be dispatched quickly and easily enough. Rhovanor found the psychic pulse of Keket buried within the flying city, and far below he led the other five, avoiding detection wherever possible as the bulk of the city’s defences poured out below. To Tiamat the rebellion below was the last of the threat, despite the significant intelligence of Serpents, their arrogance was even stronger. Within the Draconic City the invading rebels had been discovered by Pelorus, and as they headed toward's Keket's cell the former brothers spartoi stood in their path. Triggering his abilities thanks to the device designed for him and the other Fallen Aasimar, Zagreus battled the draconic deities while the others advanced. While Hyperenor and Echion were killed, Udaeus and Pelorus tore the nephilim’s head off after disabling his magic. Keket was freed, transported to the ritual chamber in the same way that Cthonius had been before the Great Old Ones could catch up to them. Rhovanor, Eoin,and Nathaniel lept; Ezekiel and Gael went looking for Pluto. 

Remus had been conjured in the heart of Forsaken Rome and immediately began to rampage once more, he smashed structures, levelled buildings and tore The Great Old One Komos clean in two as Clockwork machines began to pour in from the broken sky above. Indiscriminate killers, they butchered Nirvaan, Xerxes, and Atarniel as the Clockwork AI sought to exterminate all natural life. 

Keket appeared in the ritual chamber, Cthonius' body on the slab already prepared. Within were Felandaris, Tamlen, Sanem, Kaan, and Marisol: with precious little time, the hairbrained plot that had been proposed to the aspect over ten years prior was finally being brought to fruition. Her blood, it always came back to her blood, a sickening and vile feeling but here they were with nearly everything that they would ever need. A pint or two would not be enough, they needed all of it, every last drop was transferred from her body and into Cthonius’. When she fell, Marisol gave the heroine her hand and walked her to the door on the other side of The Void. In time, Marisol would escort nearly all of them before she herself finally faded with the last of life.

Kaan had been separated from the necronomicon for fifteen years, but before that he was tethered to it for nearly four-thousand. A necromancer of the highest echelon, he’d coached the drow sorcerer through the breadth of the reincarnation that was otherwise lost to him. The necronomicon was formidable, but drow had been making pacts with fiends and devils for thousands of years, and Felandaris had gathered  enough magic over the last decade and a half from Tamlen’s ever-flowing fountain to force the hand of a God. There was enough power discreetly stored under Forsaken Rome to destroy not just the city, but the realm entirely. 

Sanem had seen to every calculation a dozen times over, had fabricated countless pieces of technology to improve the scope of abilities of those she was working with, as well as prolong their chances of fighting The Great Old Ones above. United through Emory’s mark, once the ritual began there would be nothing stopping Pelorus from knowing exactly what they were, and likely exactly what they were doing. 

Onto the street, Ayla walked and met with the others: Rhovanor, Eoin, Nathaniel, Gaybe, Esme, Serissa, Cedric, Emory, Andruil, and Adatiel. All around them the feral lycans tore through the city, a sea of lycanthropy, but the rebels were stronger together, so as planned they shielded Trivia’s body where she would not be detected and took to fighting with The Great Old Ones and their forces that remained in Forsaken Rome: Harellan, The Bottle, Pelorus, Narcissus, Udaeus, and Renfield. While the ubiquitous mass of tentacles had quickly recovered from Prometheus’ brief assault, the avariel was quickly found and violently butchered/talked to death by Narcissus. Cloe’s automatons were under her control, the animals that Ismael had taken over, and the devices that Rawlins had fabricated belonged to the halfbloodeds now. Micah did not survive the separation. The Clockwork did not cease, they battled between the two with numbers that poured through in countless synergy from above, they attacked Remus but as they swarmed him the aspect could not be felled easily as he thrashed great limbs and breathed monstrous air across Forsaken Rome. Madness incarnate.

Above Forsaken Rome, in the Draconic City of Tiamat, the great five-headed dragon queen had grown tired of batting Pluto around, so while the warriors fought, she moved to stand over the ledge and look down below. Pluto, in chains, was found quickly by Ezekiel and Gael. An additional vampire of the same sire line and a single human  wasn’t noticeable, even to the dragon’s senses, with the original’s manacles broken, Pluto was free for the first time in fifteen years. Bats and ravens flew from the palace, Pluto to join his siblings, Ezekiel and Gael to join their friends. 

At the borders of the Telperion forest, Titania, Rainer, Melpomene, Mars, Juno, and Venus fought. Protected from Ilsenine’s mental warfare by Titania’s song, their ears plugged against Assan's voice casting, the warriors and aspects fought against the hordes of creatures as they battled to penetrate the forest. Bats manifested a physical form as Pluto joined the fray, after being absent for thousands of years four siblings reunited at long last. The tide did not change, but still they pressed onward. Above, Tiamat roared, displeased, she descended onto the forest as each of her five heads unleashed a rage of elements. 

Pythia, had been betrayed. The liar and the serpent, her and her siblings had been relegated to… policing a trapped witch in a Forsaken City that had relatively entertainment. Serving at the behest of an inflated God’s ego. In quiet she conspired, though unaware of it, Lilith had planted the thought there all along. She’d sewn it into the other archfiends’ as well, all save for Beelzebub, who’d gone along with the plan happily enough. When the rebels rose up, they, along with their demons, did the same. The archfiends and Megaera cut down and killed the disgusting mass of nouns, The Bottle, and began to carve away at the varied tentacles of Renfield as they tried to slice their way into his core. Overpowered, The Great Old One embedded his limbs into their brains and took to personally puppetting them instead as the archfiends turned to fight the rebels now instead. 

Ayla hummed with power, trapped and pinned down, the target was Pelorus, and had always been Pelorus. Beneath the city the ritual began and as the rebels managed to create an opening, the Fallen Aasimar activated and cut through him. Unfortunately, it was only moments after the rest of The Great Old ones had been alerted. Torn and battling on several fronts, the swarms headed for the catacombs as the rebels retreated to the only entrances they had left unsealed. It was here that the survivors would hold them. Ayla’s limp body hung from Udaeus' blade, impaled before she was dropped dead to the earth.

Tiamat’s breath stripped the stamina from the already weary warriors, but as his blood fell upon the ground, Mars was only incensed further. A berserker driven into a frenzy, the original siblings watched as Juno was cut down and beheaded but those that remained pressed that much harder. Forced to the ground by the crippling weight of Tiamat’s power, a hum began to reverberate through the air. A song of ancient origin rippled in the sky, a gate opened and through it sailed the remaining ten muses: Melete, Aoede, Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania. Accompanied by the astral elf, Yavie, and Hayliel with a Mickey Mouse parachute. 

The Muses and Goddesses turned the tide, but not before countless bombs that had been constructed over the last fifteen years fell upon Telperion and The Great Old Ones. Modified not to harm any fey or elven life, the original vampires had to run and take cover. Astral in origin, they tore pockets in the landscape and revealed the bodies of countless within. Mordukhavar, son of Tiamat, contested with Yavie and Rainer as mentor and pupil locked swords with the Great Old One. Pulled from the ground, the elves and the fey that had been imprisoned were once again free. Aeode lent her aetherial song to them and replenished their magic, Thalia joined in and restored their vitality, and Melete harmonised to heal their broken bodies. Imprisoned and bled for their power for fifteen years, the fey and the drow rose once again and moved against The Great Old Ones. Conjured from the ground itself, Tamlen was brought to his wardee's side as the chancellors united and the Titan towered above the ground again.

Below Forsaken Rome, in the catacombs beneath, the ritual began. Kaan and Felandaris had both contested with dark forces before, but this would be one like no other. Cronus was older than the continent of Faerûn, older than Fate or Creation. Now they conspired to give him physical form. Greater than any tower the Architect had previously constructed, for someone who knew how to make use of the raw, cosmic power that Tamlen had given, anything was possible. Bound through Emory’s mark, Trivia’s Otherworldly power flowed through them as they started. 

Above, Luna was cut down, Ilsensine as well, Renfield was torn apart into pieces and Remus was eviscerated down to his very core. Udaeus was shredded, The Weary was turned inside out, and all five of Tiamat’s heads were cut off and rolled across the ground to join her children. The Clockwork had descended upon the field as the machines tore Lycaon and his army into nothing more than fur and sinew. The Titan devastated the landscape, but its body was pulverized into dust, and as Tamlen was reformed at the Laurelin, both him and the tree were torn from the root by the Clockwork.

The Clockwork were winning, and quickly. Rainer fought valiantly and took a shot of aetherial mana that was intended for Titania, falling as his sword broke and his spirit dissipated at long last. Venus went next, Pluto followed shortly after. Mars remained but the fey and drow were falling away in droves  as the machines closed in against them closer, and closer. Their circle grew smaller and smaller. In the sky above, Hayliel slowly floated down, unnoticed by many as he watched everything with a pair of binoculars. More bombs fell from the fallen, scattering the machines as the bodies of Tiamat's children were pulled apart and dismembered.

The last of the rebels stood in defence of the caves as the armies of The Great Old Ones were eviscerated by the machines that poured endlessly from the sky above. Trivia’s body was discovered and destroyed, the power of the Rebels fractured, and all that remained were the few. Rhovanor, Eoin, Nathaniel, Ezekiel, Gael, Gaybe, Esme, Serissa, Cedric, Emory, Andruil, and Adatiel. Behind them the ritual continued, and they held. Magic, blades, bullets, aether, psionics, lightning, earth, air, and brute strength. They should have crumpled then, the machines should have washed over them like they were nothing, but still they held and not a single inch of ground was lost until it was soaked in blood. Marisol appeared now and then, she’d offer a kind word heard to only one, and she’d bring them to the other side. Just as she’d done for so many others over the years. 

Cthonius rose from the slab bound by sacred pact, raw aetherial power, and cutting edge technology. The machines eviscerated the outer defences and the Clockworked roared into the chamber, the last of the rebels nearly cut down, and there they were frozen.  “It will come with a cost.” “...” “Six.”

And then, just like that. It was over, they were back. Six times Cronus would ask those that had fought that day, and six consecutive times a life had to be freely given. They would know the question without being asked, but the answer would need to be given just the same. 

With a sigh, those that had given everything for the battle dissipated into gray ash. Within her cell Adatiel whispered a quiet telepathic farewell to her siblings, then she was gone; across the battlefield the Blessed all felt her departure. Marisol stood over the infirmed, she offered  the comforts that only a mother could as her fingers stroked their hair, she appeared within Lucas’ line of sight one last time, waved, and then she was gone. On the battlefield Ezekiel rushed alongside those he fought with before he suddenly stopped, his consciousness back from the future. He managed to catch Hakan’s eye in the distance, he smiled, and then the wind blew him away. Within the Pyramid Gabriel looked up, Rowan winked at him, Gabriel flushed, and then just like that the dhampir disappeared. Across the Otherworld Titania took a great breath, Mars clung to her and demanded to know what she had done - how they were back, but she asked him only one thing: save them. He continued to hold her even after she slipped into the wind. At the summit of Necromanteion, the doors were flung open, Kaan saw Raffaele and Jian hanging there and only hoped that this would be enough to save them. The rest of the team rushed forward, but Kaan slipped into the air.

Nyloth was a drow once more in the midst of her ritual to Lloth, Evanuris joined her now though as they rose and left the temple behind in favour of venturing elsewhere instead. Faerinaal halted the march of the drow, the soldiers turned their eyes back to the court as they faithfully followed the Founder’s lead. Somniar’s illithids stopped their chittering as the Inquisitor felt bloodlust broiling within his veins, his arm and half his face suddenly off.  Amadeus appeared at Severon’s side and stopped the man from firing up his machines. Nidhogg and The Executioner went to the Queen’s chambers and found Ayi’ig impaled against the wall. Assassinated. Absent the trauma of the explosion, Somniar survived the assault that had torn apart his body from space itself. Later fitted by Felandaris with a relic recovered from Elysia, a marvel of a mystical prosthetic was in place of where the Inquisitor’s arm had once been.

Felandaris, Faerinaal, and Nyloth arrived at Severon’s workshop and levelled everything, Somniar’s insight led them to all of Severon’s hidden labs, and any choice of the Clockwork abominations was wiped away. Felandaris and Nyloth invoked an old power together, one outlawed even by the ancient elves: balefire. Power provided by Felandaris, approval from Lloth secured by Nyloth, and the scorching pale flames destroyed everything that it came into contact with, erasing it from Time itself. Nyloth furthered her punishment and imposed an oath in Lloth’s name: bound in power, Severon would never be able to continue this pursuit again. As the last of Ayi’ig’s first drow, Nyloth, Faerinaal, and Felandaris were installed as the Court of Drow’s Triumvirate. With Ayi’ig’s death, The Executioner would serve Nyloth instead, and Nidhogg would protect the triumvirate and Lloth’s interests. Good to his word, Felandaris freed Rhovanor from his subjugation, but told the illithid if he returned to the Court of Drow he would be made their subject again. 

As Ganymede approached the Gates of Dis, a spring in his step, a cheery tune on his tongue, Diana came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Saving his life, though he’d never remember. She told him the battle was going to be over soon, and he took her out to Applebys to celebrate. 

At Necromantion’s summit, things went differently now, bindings of light were fired from Keket as Lilith was struck and caged in the place where she’d been hidden, Tisiphone’s seraph blades pierced through Octavian and pinned him, preventing him from using any power as hellfrost cemented him in place. Lucretia lashed out, transformed into a dragon as Yurena saw her opportunity and blew her horn once more. Levent, keenly aware of the decade and a half he’d spent beneath the dirt, and the tragedy that came from this war, cast cold upon the Asphodel. A frigid song that froze Pythia, Bastien, Tepiltzin, and Nashoba in place. Chaos erupted amidst the Asphodel, they expected Yurena to betray them but Lucretia and Levent was another story altogether. Pythia screamed and lunged, but she was too late, Michael’s blade pierced through the necronomicon.  

Pluto awoke beneath the pomegranate tree where he'd first found Kore's soul, but she was gone now, and the tree itself was dead and barren. The original vampire was alone once more.

Across the field of battle the majority of necromanced forces were swept away before they even met the front lines of the allied senate’s forces. The barrier fell and Ayla directed the witches to focus their efforts on those within the tower, to the prisoners within the cells, and to those at the summit. Unanimously linked across Rome and in the Otherworld, they worked to conjure those within as they desperately tried to escape. The great burning tower of iron sank into the bedrock as a giant sinkhole was formed; knowing that the book was destroyed, Efigenia, Lucretia, Avery, Alvaro, and Harellan left through a hidden door and made their way back into Rome to blend into society once more. Furious, August’s power swelled, but Tisiphone’s seraph blade pierced him through his chest as every other member of the Asphodel had the good sense to abandon ship. The Fury didn’t kill him, but she destroyed all the magic within. Somehow, Michael still stood. While he was confused, the book was gone so in the meantime he aided the others in evacuating. Pythia remembered everything that had happened, now her book was destroyed once more, Michael offered her his hand, but she rejected it and departed on her own.

The lycans remembered the blast, the intrusive thought that stopped them all in their tracks. The Eye was laying in wait for them in the midst of the Labyrinth and while they could have continued into the city they saw the fey drawing back from the assault. Lycaon returned and announced that the battle in the Otherworld had ended immediately, recounting some nonsense about the apocalypse. Alek, the Lupo, and those summoned who chose to remain returned to the forest, this time with the chance to build something new.

Within the Fairy King’s Forest and around the world, the eladrins took a collective breath as Titania’s departure shattered the instrument at the heart of the Court of Drow. All the fey that were being channelled were suddenly restored to their full, elven power. Spring Fey became Dawn Elves, summer fey became Sun Elves, autumn fey became Dusk Elves, and winter fey all became Lunar Elves. Laer, Aurora, Robin, and Zahrya collectively resigned to putting this battle to the side as they looked to the DaemonKing for guidance. Meryasek’s hellfire raged through the field of bloodfruits and those buried within were put out of their misery. When he was done he took the crown from off of his head and tossed it aside, the monarchy had ended, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the chancellors as their tiebreaker: the fifth court, the court of the blood elves and the daemonfey. Tamlen searched for his brother, but Revas was abducted by Rhovanor and tortured then killed by Somniar in the days leading up to the battle, he was dead. His head was on a spike outside of Ayi'ig's bedroom window.

Faimen across Rome, The Otherworld, and the mortal realm as a whole took pause as they too were affected by what Titania had done. Her sacrifice and all that she had given. Made immortal, faimen were made into eladrins and all children that would be born from elves and mortals going forward would be as well. Unlike their predecessors they had no capability for song, nor did the seasons change at their approach, and the elements did not bend to their will: they were now immortal, would not age past their prime, and they could manipulate one of the four elements. Directionless, Cloe stood among them, their chosen leader to see them through this transition. Drow, as well, were changed. Inhibited by Ayi’ig’s will and the residual effects of Titania’s channelling, they transitioned from creatures of undeath to fully realised dark elves. 

A single fig fell once more, and with it Laurelin's light faded from the tree beneath the Pyramid. Gifted to Tamlen by the archdruids, it was clear to them that Oztalun’s legacy would fall to the would-be guardian. In the heart of the Fairy King’s Forest, Tamlen presented the boon to the chancellors, and through his raw aetherial power, a new realm was crafted:  Audulë, loosely translated from the old tongue as a noun that meant Hope, or a Place Of. The four high elves, and the daemonfey of the chancellorship: Laer, Zahrya, Meryasek, Robin, and Aurora lent their songs to its creation. Just as Titania had once done in the past; they formed a great island that they divided, a place for every court, including the daemonfey and blood elves as well. At its heart, the fig was planted, and together the elves sang to its growth: Laurelin grew once more, towering and beautiful with branches that touched the sky and sprawled across the horizon. Tamlen, it’s stalwart protector. Separated from the Otherworld, and guarded by Rainer who'd train the elves once more, Audulë was only accessible via direct invitation through the Fey Forest. However, elves and those of significant elven blood would always find their way. At Logon's advocacy, and after an apology for his assault on the fey, Uriel was permitted within with the understanding that if he raised his blade to another elf he'd lose it completely.  

Forgiven for his past crimes, and pardoned for the part he played among the Asphodel. Levent rejoined the winter court. In the heart of the Lunar Mountains, The White Flame continued to burn. Fanatics of the Lunar Court arose, piety returned as the Flame called many to its worship. Dareth among them, a Guardian of Auril. 

The Fairy King’s Forest no more, the Fey Forest became the home of a myriad of creatures. Eladrins most prominently, but demons, sprites of the Otherworldly menagerie, spirits, changelings, and others seemed to wander within as well. Travellers were still weary, the fey were inherently capricious and monsters were inherently dangerous. The fog remained, though instead of trapping people within it turned them back around. Here in the Fey Forest the line between the mortal realm and the Otherworld had thinned and had become indiscernible; as a result of the former orchard, it was all too easy to be lost. Clairvoyant by nature, it was here that Cloe would come to build the new home of the eladrins, and from here that she and her marshals would traverse the mortal realm seeking others who’d suddenly awoken to new power.

While it became clear that diplomatic relations with the dark elves and the high elves would always be tense. Titania’s absence had made the Otherworld a dangerous place. In exchange for keeping the malevolent forces at bay, the dark elves retained their place within the Court and a tentative peace was established. So long as neither trespassed in the other’s domain, the Triumvirate and the Chancellors would ensure that all would be well. 

The City of Dis was no more, it collapsed further and further into the Otherworld until there was nothing left but a seemingly bottomless pit. The Asphodel was no more, but the mark upon the members did not fade, the Allied Senate Forces had won, somehow, but those that remembered knew that it did not come without a cost. For everyone else it felt like a dream, one that would fade over time, those who wished to remember could do so with a potion, spell, or treatment, but a great many were eager to forget the horrors that had befallen them, their loved ones, and the realm. 

Attended by the Elven and Eladrin Court; Melete, Aoede, Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania joined their sister Melpomene. Within her casket of woven aetherial magic, Mneme continued to slumber in her plague dream. None could figure out why it was that she remained on the cusp of life but the answer had always been nestled in Melpomene’s chest. The eldest of the twelve muses, Calliope stepped forth and brushed Melpomene’s golden hair: “To be a woman is to be alone and never alone, feel your braid and know that we all stood before you, that we all stand with you.” The ten who yet lived joined their circle that would contain the spellplague as Melpomene dispelled the casket and approached her twin sister. 

The bond of siblings was more important than any other, parents left too soon and lovers came too late, sisters were there throughout: at least Melpomene always thought Mneme was meant to be. Melpomene was ready now, she said farewell and Mneme took her final breath. A gate to Arvandor opened as Angharraddh stood on the other side, though not in her true form, Mneme with hair that mirrored Melpomene: a new aspect for the Queen of many fallen Goddesses. Elsewhere, within Álfheimr, the raven haired counterpart took up her place and duty at Thanatos’ side: Memory and Death, together at last. Azrael moved to stand with Melpomene  and together with her sisters they departed for Arvandor. Any of the elves or eladrins who wished to leave the mortal realm and join them, did. This would be their final chance. 

From the rubble of what once was, Udaeus, Pelorus, Echion, and Hyperenor retrieved the body of their brother Cthonius. His corpse that had been knit back together from the bones they buried long ago. Defiled and used by necromancers, elves, and sorcerers alike. They gathered together and built a pyre, upon it they set the eldest of them and remained until the flames died out and the embers went cold. Cthonius' ashes were scattered and from there the four went their separate ways once more. 

Reform was held within the city of Rome, the triumvirate was dissolved and Theo Graves took his place within the vampire monarchy. Succeeding Evelyn Boucher, he was named King of the European Monarchy of Vampires with the eladrin Elessar at his side, promoting a new age of cooperation between vampires and elves once more. Evelyn, choosing to step down following so much loss, retired to the countryside. Ayla retained her seat as senator of the Venus vampires, choosing to keep her hidden abilities a secret from the rest of the senate. Xerxes and Adrian retained their seats as senators, Emir was named Theo’s replacement. Another progeny of Rhiannon’s, he was the same age as The Earnest was when she had been appointed to the senate years prior. 

Amidst the Pyramid, new Keepers were at last appointed, if there was anything that they did not remember, with their permission Nettelia restored their memories completely. Safiye, Eren, Esme, and Evy. They would rule over the Pyramid and hold responsibility over the druids of Rome, as should have always been the case. For his crimes in the battle, Octavian was not permitted within the Pyramid again, nor within Rome. Fen’Harel was stripped of their senate position, Evy would take their place instead. While his acolytes remained welcome, the phoenix was not. Aren, Dionaeia, and Nettelia were free to do as they wished: the war was over. 

With Kaan dead, The Relic stepped out of retirement and took his place as Sovereign of the Narcissus Coven. Efigenia retained her position as Watcher for the Narcissus and Marshal for the senate, bringing Raffaele under her wing as a fellow Watcher, Marshal, and apprentice. Vivianne, permanently changed into a spartoi, abdicated her position as Sovereign; the Dahlia Coven unanimously chose Abel to follow in her footsteps and continue the Coven’s path towards reform. Marco, Avery, Emory, and the rest of the coven were eager to continue the former Oracle’s legacy, Abel appointed Avery and Emory as Watchers and Marshals. Hazal had rebuilt the Amaranthus Coven under a new legacy, one that was both strong and something to be proud of. Blood magic remained impossible for them to perform, but its study and understanding was no longer forbidden. Many witches that had flocked to Rome for the war chose to remain under Hazasl’s new regime; Ciro and Grayson were appointed to the position of Watcher, while Ciro turned down the position of Marshal, Grayson and The Released were quick to take up the mantle. Indelibly changed by the battle, Rowan officially joined the Amaranthus Coven.

Virgil and his family had flocked to Rome to defend it, but once again the Ivy Coven put down its roots, many of the witches and lycans that had come to the city for the war remained and swore themselves to the Ivy. Both a coven and a pack, the Ivy became the most powerful force in the city. Eoin and The Hopeful were named Watchers with the former taking up the position of Marshal alongside Aurea. Within the senate’s prisons, reform took place as the ancient cells were officially emptied and rehabilitation was attempted for those within. Minds that could be healed, in conjunction with The Dahlia, The Amaranthus, and The Ivy, Trivia worked to restore those within who’s minds had been shattered by magic after the war. Among them was the former necromancer and now human, August. Within the halls of their ancestral home, Yurena awaited her brother’s return. For her aid in the battle, she was pardoned for her crimes. The Alstroemeria House was hers once again, choosing to follow in Erik’s footsteps, the Coven opened its doors once again to any witch who could bring into their reliquary three magical innovations previously unknown. While the first addition to her reliquary was the Elysian Horn, the Covens that had pilfered from the house’s corpse returned everything that was taken, not all had been recovered, but the Alstroemeria were on the path to recovery once more. A newly-minted Sovereign of one, Yurena began again.

In time the black market within Fates' was broken up, the illegal trade of magical artifacts, blood, and other taboo materials was brought to a halt and strictly regulated by the Senate. Places like Just A Bite were given greater oversight to prevent accidental death, and thralls were regularly checked for their physical and mental wellbeing.

The Eye underwent changes as well, Marzia vacated her position and a new election was held for Mayor of Rome. Soon after Marzia was forgotten entirely, her face and presence the subject of a dream, one everyone remembered fondly. The Assistant was named the city’s interim mayor until a new leader was voted in in Marzia's place, Hyrsam. Some people thought the name sounded familiar, but nobody could quite remember where they'd heard it before. The military branch of The Eye was dissolved globally, the supernaturals within were released into the care of professionals. If they had committed crimes leading up to their arrest, then The Eye handed them off to the proper authorities. Instead, the facility shifted its focus and directive to aiding the magical world in policing and healing their own. Sanem remained to restructure Labyrinth into what she believed the future of their company should be, she paid her first visit to Lupercal, previously New Rome, where she treated the soon to be former Alpha, Alek. Once concluded she left the city to continue her efforts in the research facilities around the world, followed by Kirigan, she wasn’t going anywhere without him.. An invitation was extended to Keket and Isabella to join The Eye’s rehabilitation and research team, but while Isabella offered her services to consult and serve a therapeutic rapport to both the Senate and The Eye, Keket refused. 

The title of Overseer was abolished, instead a Director was named: Ariadne. Isla stayed on and eventually both Kadir and Rawlins joined the staff as well. A branch of The Eye was opened in Lupercal as a gesture of good faith, a veterinary office with lycans like, The Doctor, and the halfblooded Ismael were brought on to maintain healthy relations and ensure nobody was getting rabies. Their fleas were also treated here. Eventually, a state of the art hospital was built in the heart of the city, serving the human and supernatural population with a staff that mirrored the citizens. A shelter, and a number of social enterprises appeared as well, not just in Rome but across the globe as well. After a sabbatical, Renfield was named the hospital’s Medical Director.  Working still to unlock the secrets of the supernatural world so that they could better serve it, with projects approved by the Senate, The Eye continued their research above board. The particle accelerator was dismantled completely, defunct and sold for parts so that it could never be used again. It was through Sanem, Isla, and Kadir’s research that they discovered treatments for leeches and volatiles. Medication made it possible to curve their appetites, satiate them with supplements, and provide them with artificial enhancements. Through surgical intervention, it was even possible to reverse the condition entirely. It was through this treatment plan that Alek was made a standard lycan once more.

With the military branch of The Eye disbanded, those who joined because they hated the supernatural world, and those that had been programmed to despise them were all but pushed out into the cold. They were offered security positions, positions on the senate, or positions on the Roman police force, but to most that was a slap in the face, Ephraim had never known anything else, but in the end he chose to become an officer of Rome, quickly making detective. Dario remained on to ensure the Director's safety and well being while Wade and Cruz left entirely. Those that had been enhanced by The Eye were welcomed back for further training, Akara among them though he might have forgotten. The three warforged remain as the marshals for the human representatives on the senate: Isla and The Assistant. 

In the end it had been one of the Blessed that had made the ultimate sacrifice, and another that had destroyed the necronomicon. Once again the seraphim were welcomed into the city, but while Ulthar's betrayal was made public, they were given quarters within Rome that they could call their own, if they chose. Azrael had departed from this plane, and Adatiel had sacrificed herself. Michael put his sword down and was unwilling to fight his family any longer. Uriel became more concerned with his life among the elves; thanks to Hayliel's many efforts and the outstanding work as a rebel at the end of times, he was chosen to represent the seraphim upon the senate, Atarniel and Dumah were who he chose to be his marshals. 

A spirit had given up everything for the realm, but the abuse of their kind was longstanding, seen as subhuman for too long, Valentina was named senator and representative. She assumed control of Fates' as the backdoor operations were shut down. Chrysaor and an old reaper, The Vigil, were chosen as her marshals. An independent demon, Bebe had no master and she would never need one, but she had walked away from the Asphodel and had strong relations with most of the demons in the city ( the groupchat she’d started ). Konstantin and Mazikeen were chosen as her marshals. 

With the establishment of Lupercal and the Elven City beyond Rome's borders, the lycans and the elves did not hold senate positions, but Ambassadors from each were appointed to advocate for their interests. Ambassadors of Lupercal, Flora and Adamo spoke on behalf of the vacant seat of their Alpha on the senate to try and promote some semblance of peace between the two, Romeo, Otsana, Serkan at the ready to advocate for them with their teeth if needed. Joined in the name of the Fey Forest, Lia and Davheira had been selected to speak as ambassadors for the interests of the five courts of elves as senators.

Cloe remained on the senate after a long and much needed sabbatical, though she spoke for the eladrins now. Nathan was chosen to represent the mortal half of the halfblooded population as a senator, a role he wasn't sure was a good fit but was something he did anyways. Micah and Nabi were chosen to be Cloe's marshals, while Sabina and Zagreus were chosen to be Nathan's. Over the following months Kay was deemed unfit to hold the title of marshal.

Intent to make sure that the threat of the Gods never returned and to hopefully collaborate with the senate and The Eye to find a permanent solution, the demigod population that had gathered in Rome put forth Hyacinth to represent them; Luna and Pelorus were named his Marshals. Creatures colloquially referred to as aspects had run rampant through the city for far too long, while they weren’t given representation on the senate, the senate’s fourth law would be heavily imposed: No one life stands above another. With the inclusion of humans onto the senate, the five laws were amended. The fifth was struck, and the first was altered: No human or magical life should ever be taken, except in the extreme defence of one’s life or the life of another. 

Time had erased The Six from existence, every version of them across every timeline, their futures and their destinies. That was the price that had been imposed. While those who lived up until the final day of the apocalypse would remember everything with perfect clarity, for the rest of the world the events would fade into something of a dream. Some were eager to forget, others took potions or cast spells to ensure they remembered. One thing remained true, and that was that the Romans would never forget the sacrifices of The Six: statues of each were erected at the entrance to the old forum so that members of the senate would pass them before every meeting. The citizens of the city would look upon them and know that they had given everything in order to give the people of this realm, and all realms, a second chance. From left to right the life size statues were erected: the seraphim Adatiel, the spirit Marisol, the halfblooded Gabriel, the elven queen Titania, the vampire Ezekiel, and the former necromancer Kaan.

Proof that no one life should ever stand above another.

ooc info:

Hello, everyone is back except for The Six.

Those who died remember nothing about The Void or what came after, they remember nothing about what happened after the moment they died. No player-controlled characters should have any knowledge of The Void or what came after.

All those who survived until the day of the last battle will remember everything, even if they try to have the memories removed or suppressed, they will always return.This includes The Great Old Ones, they will remember everything and cannot forget.

Those who died in the war and the years after may remember the events up until the moment of their death, the memories will fade like an old dream unless the player chooses to have their character use in-game means to keep them.

The Six that gave their lives are completely gone, their destinies across every lifetime and version of reality was wiped out. They are not in the afterlife, and they cannot be brought back or contacted in any way. Harsh, I know :( but it's not a sacrifice unless it hurts.

The senate has undergone reformation, all eladrins are now high elves, all drow are now dark elves, and all faimen are now a different version of eladrins previously unseen.

The characters who changed species in the plot drops are still in effect, with the exception of Nyloth, she has returned to a drow/dark elf. Vivianne is a spartoi, she'll retain her Oracular abilities and gain some new ones. Emma is a reaper, Rhovanor is an illithid, and the three white haired girlies were revealed as fallen aasimar.

With the destruction of the necronomicon, necromancers/members of the Asphodel have lost their ability to channel from it endlessly. Necromancy consumes a massive amount of magic so performing any necromantic spells will be difficult for them. Impossible in most cases (for now).

The identities of the necromancers are all obscured from memory, former members can't quite remember who they once worked alongside. Those of the Asphodel who have remained truly loyal remember everything and everyone.

The technology Sanem developed in the future has been defunct, so Fallen Aasimar can't activate their powers at will.

In game a memorial will be held on December 1st, at that time I'll post the final wrap up, release the new species, queue the new skeletons, and swap out the pages to reflect all the above changes. New aspects will not be released until December 25th.

Please use this time to adjust to the new world state, all pertinent information is in the plot drop, but if you have follow-up questions you are always welcome to ask.

We'll be doing a mini Winter event I'm gleefully calling "Nightmare Before Christmas," which will be centered around Saturnalia, the Winter Solstice, and Krampus. We missed Halloween this year so lets get a little spooky with our festive.

We'll be doing a mini event February 15th, Lupercalia 2 electric boogaloo, where our new Alpha and King or Queen of Lupercal will be decided. I just love that it's a day after Valentine's Day.

There will be no major events until the Spring, a lot has happened with the plot from where we've started so I for one am looking forward to a little rest and some character development.

Unfollows will be posted in the discord channel. The face claims of The Six are retired, unless the mun wishes to pick up that face again.

Thank you everyone for your patience and participation in this event, this group has been a labour of love and your continued support to go along with this insanity means the world to me. Love you all.

[patamon]

Takeru Takaishi Week [Day 1 prompt: Patamon Angemon]

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but like....yeah...life is hard

Title: Lost Character: Takeru Takaishi (for @takerutakaishiweek​ ) Word Count: 4017 Rating: G Summary: A disastrous turn in event left Takeru isolated and alone in an unknown part of the Digital World. But he insists he doesn’t need help, not even from his own Digimon partner...

Cross-posted on AO3

Read below the cut 👇

Lost

These days, Takeru rarely feels the grips of fear as he wanders through the unknown terrains of the Digital World. It’s not that he was particularly brave, that title he would gladly hand over to Taichi or Daisuke, but the possibility of certain death at the hand of a ruthless monster no longer shook him the way it used to when he was eight. Perhaps he’s gotten too comfortable, too used to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his fight-or-flight instinct has become a comforting friend. 

But still, on days like these, Takeru is slammed with the reminder that things could go wrong, that hiccups could still occur during mundane missions like these. 

It started with the six of them, the group of younger Chosen scouting out a suspicious data packet Koushiro detected in the Digital World. It was Takeru that found the packet first, and it was Takeru that discovered their peculiar purpose of transporting anyone that came in contact with it to a random part of the Digital World. Takeru learned this all the hard way after he tumbled hard into the depth of some digital forest, where the trees around him towered high into the atmosphere, the trunks of each the size of apartment buildings he grew up with in Odaiba.

He’s only seen pictures of settings like these, like the Amazon rainforests he stumbled across while flipping lazily through his mother’s National Geographic magazines. The forest ground was slick with moss, and climbing up and over fallen logs left him breathless, but still, he forged on, guided by a silent Angemon before him, impassive and serious as he hurried through with a desperate urgency.

Without warning, Angemon turned to face him sharply, the abruptness startled even himself. But he gathered himself back when he noticed Angemon extending his hand towards him, and before them, another log decomposing on the soggy forest ground, albeit this one possessed a girth he hadn't seen before.

“Come, Takeru,” Angemon beckoned, “I can help you over.”

But Takeru squared his shoulder and walked forward, straight past Angemon to seize up the obstacle. Finally, he nodded.

“I can handle it on my own,” Takeru asserted, then scaled the barrier without waiting for a response.

The going was tough, his feet slipping a few times as he struggled to find a divot to anchor himself in. At times, he felt Angemon’s sturdy hand on his back, or on his arms in an attempt to help him through, but he shrugged it all off in a huff.

“I’m fine…I don’t need help” he wheezed.

Until at long last, his feet landed on the slick forest ground on the other side. He was panting and in a mess, but satisfied that he did indeed make it over on his own.

Of course he could handle it on his own.

After all, he wasn’t the same scared little kid clinging to his older brother when they found themselves lost in the Digital World the first time, nor was he the overly cautious adolescent surrounded by a gaggle of new Chosen. He had cut his teeth on the most jagged of adventures to earn his place amongst the veteran Chosens. He was grown and experienced. He definitely didn’t need anyone, or any Digimon, to constantly dote on him like a lost child.

He turned back to find Angemon frozen in place, his wings wilting slightly before he flew effortlessly over the log. They exchanged gaze for a mere second, but long enough for Takeru to pick up on the tight frown on his lips. He could sense it in the air, the pensive sadness leaking through the tight-fitting mask. He felt a surprising tug in his heart at the subtle defeat in Angemon’s stance, but he ignored it and pushed forward. 

It’s not real, Takeru chanted in his head, it was my imagination. 

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t the case. Only he could pick up hints of Angemon’s hidden expression and buried feelings, and likewise, Angemon could read him like no other. Not even Patamon could compare to Angemon’s intuition. They shared an unparalleled bond.

They were family.

It didn’t take long for Angemon to catch up, unsurprising because Takeru’s stiff muscle had begun to drag him back like friction on carpet. But instead of overtaking him, Angemon hung back, keeping pace with Takeru as he laboured hard to even his breathing in the angel’s presence.

“Takeru, I think you should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Takeru responded shortly.

“But…”

“I said I’m fine,” Takeru repeated, but this time, with enough force to convince Angemon to drop the subject.

At least for now.

A few steps further brought them across a rushing stream, the water dyed a murky brown. Angemon halted first, prompting Takeru to do the same. He watched as his partner kneeled down and surveyed the water, dipping his fingers in tentatively to test something Takeru could not guess.

“Takeru,” he finally said, “Are you okay?”

Takeru forced a strain smile, “I’m fine,” he assured his partner.

“Are you really fine?” the angel pressed.

In response, Takeru clicked his tongue and turned away. In spite of his best effort to keep a level head, he felt the irritation creeping up slowly from the tips of his fingers to his aching head. He knew he was being irrational, but knowing doesn’t stop him from experiencing it all. 

The fact is, he had become accustomed to Patamon and his innocence. Often, especially as he got older while Patamon remained static and carefree, he took on the caregiver role between the two of them, doting and tending to the small Digimon, making sure he didn’t get himself in a mess too sticky to disentangle himself from. For once in his life, he was the older and more mature one, he was the one watching over and not being watched. 

Truth be told, he liked it.

But Angemon was not Patamon, and this ordeal drove home that fact.

“Yes, yes I have told you hundreds, if not thousands of times that I am fine. You don’t have to ask me every five minutes if I’m fine…because I really am fine.”

If Angemon was taken back by Takeru’s tirade, he would not show it. Instead, he stood up to his full height, the tips of his wings brushing against a lower branch as he turned to face him fully.

“Forgive me, Takeru, but you seemed irritated by my presence.”

Takeru faltered, he averted his gaze to the ground. All of a sudden, he felt like he was eight again, explaining his transgression to his mother in their living room. 

“No…no…it’s just…this is stressful, that’s all”

There was a rustling of feathers, and when Takeru looked up, he saw that Angemon had moved close to lay his gloved hand on his shoulder.

“I know it is, but trust me. Takeru, I will get you back as soon as possible. I will protect you, I promise”

Takeru nodded in understanding. After all, he was still a vulnerable human in a dangerous world. Despite his insistence that he didn’t need help, he would be in grave danger if attacked by a feral Digimon without Angemon around.

But still…

He looked up and surveyed the feathers on Angemon’s wings. Despite the close bond the other Chosen shared with their own Digimon, he could not recall the others being coddled by their partner the way Angemon did with him. Even Hikari and Angewomon were on a more level playing field, unlike the hierarchy Angemon placed himself above in a bid to play the role as guardian and protector.

Often, on quiet evenings or lonely afternoons, Takeru wondered about the rationale for their chosen partners. Why was Yamato assigned a wolf Digimon, while he was blessed with what seemed like a guardian angel. Was the answer as simple as their crest, or was it more complicated and mysterious?

Or maybe…it was because he needed that protection, because he was the weakest Chosen and will always be weakest amongst the group.

Lost in thought, Takeru’s feet caught something wedged on the ground. The floor disappeared below him, the sensation flipping his stomach upside down. He squeezed his eyes shut and anticipated the pain from the fall, but instead, he landed in familiar arms. He opened his eyes to find Angemon standing over him, a concerned look painting his features.

He separated himself immediately, brushing away imaginary dust as he fought the heat creeping across his cheeks.

“Sorry…I…I wasn’t looking.”

“Takeru,” Angemon snapped. He stood to his full height once again, his staff in his hand as he skewered Takeru with hidden eyes, “It’s time for you to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Takeru repeated, enunciating each syllable with more force than he should have, “I said I’m fine. Now come on, the quicker we go, the quicker we can get back to the others.”

“Takeru…”

“I said I’m fine,” Takeru screamed out. He wheeled himself around to return Angemon’s expression, his breathing hard as he struggled to form his words, “Why won’t you believe me when I tell you I’m fine?”

“Because, Takeru, I can see you’re not fine. We’ve been walking for a good two hours, and you’ve had no rest and nothing to eat or drink. Even if you weren’t my partner, I understand human biology enough to know it is hard for anyone to keep up that pace without rest.”

“Well then, you’re wrong,” Takeru snapped, “Because everyone else can keep going without help from their partners. I’m no different, I can do this. I’m not weak.”

“Takeru, I’m not saying you’re weak, I’m saying it’s okay if you need rest. I’m worried about you…”

“Well you DON’T have to worry about me.”

“I’m your Digimon partner, how can I not worry about you?”

“I get it, you’re here to protect me, it’s your duty. But I don’t need you to dote on me like I’m eight. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine. I don’t…I don’t need you to be my father. ”

The air sharpened between them exponentially, Takeru watched Angemon backtrack, bit-by-bit until there was a good three feet between them. His stomach sank to the sole of his feet, this was not where he wanted to take this conversation.

“I wasn’t trying to be your father,” Angemon finally offered in a low voice.

Takeru remained quiet, studying the twigs by his feet as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Perhaps…perhaps you would prefer Patamon’s company in times like these,” Angemon continued.

Takeru’s eyes snapped up, panic worming its way through his innard while Angemon lowered his gaze.

“I’ll be back…if and when you want me to…”

Then with a flash of bright light, he was gone. Takeru looked up to find the smaller form of Patamon before him, his eyes wide with confusion as he surveyed the surroundings.

“Takeru? What happened?”

Takeru shrugged, then bent to pick up the much smaller form of his partner.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, “I don’t need him anyways. We’ll be fine, Patamon, just you and I”

—

He wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.

The more he walked, the more lost he seemed to be. He was hungry, and thirsty, and his muscles ached like never before. Every tree, every rock, every shrub around him began blurring together in an incoherent smudge. He swore he passed by the same tree stump at least five times now. Pretty soon, he was certain he would pass out from exhaustion.

“Takeru, I think we’ve been here before.”

Takeru looked towards the squeaky voice and found Patamon straddling mid-air as he surveyed a particularly mangled tree.

His heart dropped. Patamon did have a point, he’s definitely seen this tree before. He remembered joking with Patamon that whatever creature made those marks better not find them.

Takeru sucked in a hefty breath, the despair threatening to topple him over. But yet, he adjusted the strap on his backpack and moved ahead.

“That’s fine…we’ll keep going,” he mumbled, “We have to be close to getting out of this forest, we have to be…”

“Unless we were just walking around in circles,” Patamon piped up.

Takeru sighed, but bit his tongue and watched as Patamon circled higher and higher up, before dipping low to hover beside him.

“Isn’t it better if we try to find our way out by going up?” Patamon asked.

“Angemon tried that, but…all he could see around us was trees, trees, and trees. Whatever forest we’ve landed in, we seemed to be right in the thick of it.”

“So…why didn’t he fly us back?”

“He thought it would be safer if we travel by foot since there’s too much exposure in the air.”

“Oh…that sounds like a good idea”

Takeru nodded, feeling a little abashed as he watched Patamon flit a few feet higher from where they stood.

“Yeah…it was…but, it’s okay. We can still find our way out…on our own.”

Patamon wheeled around suddenly and studied Takeru with his large eyes, the blue so innocent it left him on edge.

“Are you two fighting?”

“What? Who?”

“You two. You and Angemon.”

Takeru flinched, but nevertheless turned his back on Patamon and walked forward.

“We’ll try this way,” Takeru narrated, “We ended up where we were when we walked the other way, so we’ll try this way…”

“Takeru, wait!” Patamon called out, and skidded up beside him, “So does that mean you two are fighting?”

Takeru rolled his eyes, but this time, he did not attempt to hide it. He made sure the gesture was grand enough that even Patamon took pause in the air.

“Hey, that wasn’t nice,” Patamon commented.

“What wasn’t nice?”

“That, the thing you did with your eyes. I know what that means.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means you think I’m stupid”

“Shut up, you don’t know anything”

“Why don’t you shut up?”

“How can I shut up when I wasn’t the one talking? You are the one that won’t shut up. In fact, you haven’t shut up since you appeared so why don’t you shut up?”

In response, Patamon rammed his round body into Takeru’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Ow! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Takeru, I’m your partner, you can’t talk to me like that.”

Takeru ran his fingers through his hair and drew out a shaky sigh. The quivering puff of air was all that held him back from a nervous breakdown. He squeezed his eyes shut, but even beneath shuttered lids, he could hear Patamon’s ears flapping, telling him the little Digimon had not moved from where he was. 

Under normal, stress-free circumstances, he would know Patamon stayed because he would never abandon him. But now, lost in the heart of an unnavigable forest, where his ire fought with exhaustion to drown the last of his hope underneath an ocean of despair, Takeru fell victim to the most sinister of intrusive thoughts.

He’s mocking me.

Without thinking, he swept his arms forward to knock Patamon back, before stomping hard like an impetuous child. He could feel the ridiculousness of his actions, pushing him towards the valley of shame he would fall into once the dust has settled. 

But yet, he didn’t care.

“Why don’t you do something useful for once in your useless existence?” he demanded.

Patamon gasped, tears welling up in his blue orbs.

“I HATE YOU,” Patamon screamed, “You’re…you’re the useless one. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

They froze, each one staring the other down with murderous glances. Between the two of them, when the going gets good, nothing could drive a wedge between them. But the flip side of it was the storm their fights whipped up. Their worst moments were as bad as their best moments were good. 

Out of all the Chosens and their partner, Takeru did not know any other pair that fought the way he and Patamon did. Even if they rarely fought, when they did, it was a spectacle to behold. At times, Takeru wondered if the ensuing war was the result of Patamon being a perfect reflection of his most immature side. The side that felt everything all too much, from the joy of discovering happy news, to the anger when incited, to the sadness of his depressive spells.

Takeru forced himself away to march forward, but it seemed his biological need had finally caught up to him. The sky spun sideways in the most violent manner, and splotches of darkness overtook his senses.

Takeru? He heard a familiar voice called out, one he recognized as Patamon’s.

Then, a flash of light, and just as the world pulled away from him, he heard his name called out again. This time, the voice sounded hollow, but with a firm command to its tone.

Takeru! 

In spite of himself, he smiled. Somehow somewhere, he knew…

He was going to be fine.

—

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the splitting headache he somehow acquired. That, and the fire crackling merrily before him, ignorant of the harm it could do if it gave away his position to some flesh-eating digital monster.

He stirred, one hand clutching his temple while the other wrapped around his hollow stomach.

“Easy there,” a familiar voice instructed.

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who the voice belonged to.

“Angemon?”

The word grated his throat like sheets of sandpaper, drawing forth a tortured cough. Almost immediately, something cool pressed against his lips, then something sloshing wet. His heart leapt with joy. 

Water, glorious lifegiving water. 

He gulped it down without thinking, his instinct taking hold as it compelled him to swallow and swallow and swallow, until he felt put together enough to pry his eyes open.

“Angemon,” he greeted.

Angemon placed the thermos down and turned his body away, eliciting a slight moment of panic within Takeru. But luckily, the angel turned back almost immediately to press something moist on his forehead. He reached up to take hold of the item, surveying the thick leaf drenched with dew.

“Where did you get the water?” Takeru inquired.

Angemon shrugged, “I found a stream nearby,” he responded without looking up, then moved to retrieve something close by the fire. When he brought it to Takeru, he saw that it was a thin branch with a fish speared through it, the outside charred by the fire before them.

It made sense now why Angemon would risk their location with a fire.

“I guess it came from the same stream?”

Angemon did not respond, but offered a knowing smile instead.

Takeru gladly took the fish and bit into it. Before he could stop himself, he moaned, emitting a deep satisfied grunt as he bit into the fish again. He wasn’t exactly a fan of fish, but at that moment, it tasted like the fanciest meal at the most expensive restaurant.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking,” Angemon commented with a smug smirk.

Takeru rolled his eyes, but kept silent as he continued devouring the fish.

It was quiet for the next few minutes, save for the continual crack of the fire and the sound of Takeru’s hearty chewing. He watched Angemon poked at the fire as he ate, his wings angled at him with his head bent low.

A wall.

He knew it was him that had put it up, and it’s up to him to break it down.

“Have you eaten anything?” Takeru ventured.

“Would it make a difference if I said no?” Angemon responded.

Takeru gulped, his stomach dropped as if he was on a rollercoaster, not surprising, because here was the valley of shame he predicted he would fall into, and he was falling headfirst with nothing to slow down his plummet.

He moved closer and offered the half-eaten fish to Angemon, all the whilst training his eyes hard on the ground.

He heard wings rustling, then soft motion pushing the fish back towards him.

“Don’t worry, I ate already.”

Takeru nodded, not sure if he believed his partner, but glad he could have the rest of the meager fish to himself.

“Umm…about before…” he began in a low voice.

Angemon waved it away, but kept his face turned so Takeru could only see his side profile.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Takeru. I’m your Digimon partner, I’ve been with you long enough to know…”

“Know what?”

Finally, Angemon turned to Takeru, a soft smile dappling on his lips.

“Know that there will never be hard feelings between us.”

Takeru’s throat closed. Suddenly, the fish in his hand didn’t seem appetizing anymore. Unlike Patamon, Angemon never fought back in all their disagreements. They didn’t disagree much to begin with, but when they did, it felt like oceans swallowing up their space, suffocating the air - and life - out of them. Angemon would concede, but Takeru could feel his discontent. It was palpable, and uncomfortable.

If Patamon was a reflection of his most childish self, then perhaps Angemon would encompass the version of himself he was growing into. Like Angemon, he found comfort in hiding his real feelings from others, and ingratiating himself by bending to conform to their will, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. It was his coping mechanism, building walls and hiding himself behind it.

It was a mask.

“Well…I…I still want to apologize…so…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

He watched Angemon’s jaws clenched, his hands balled into fists as he maintained his effort to avoid Takeru’s eyes.

“I owe you an apology as well, Takeru…”

Takeru almost scoffed, but somehow held it back, replacing it with a question instead.

“For what?”

Angemon was silent for a while, when he finally spoke, his voice shook in a way Takeru had never heard before. It made him weak, knowing Angemon could be this vulnerable.

“You’ve grown so much, Takeru, enough to be fine on your own. I knew that. But…knowing that made me feel…”

Angemon sighed, the grip on his wrist tightened as he lifted his chin in the air.

“...useless.”

Takeru clutched his chest. He moved closer until he could make out the distinct feathers on Angemon’s wings by the fire light. He thought about making contact, perhaps a firm grip of his shoulder, or a gentle touch on his forearm, but decided against it. Instead, he let his words cross their distance to hopefully break through Angemon’s defenses.

“You are not useless. You are the closest thing I had to a father, Angemon. No matter what, I still need you in my life, in more ways than you know.”

At long last, Angemon turned to Takeru, his expression as stoic and impassive as ever, but Takeru caught a hint of something bright behind it. It was a spark only he could detect, and it made his heart swell.

It was all he needed to know that the walls had come down between them.

“Rest up, Takeru. We’ll continue in the morning,” Angemon instructed, his words disturbing the silence between them.

The urge to return to sleep was overwhelming, but Takeru chose to remain still. He tilted his head up to the sky, expecting to see stars, but instead saw the tree canopy blanketing the heavens. He shivered at the sight, at the thought of how the forest dwarfed everything it encompassed in this world.

“Will we ever find our way out?” he asked.

Angemon stood up and flexed his wings. It took a while, but at long last, he turned to Takeru and nodded, a firm smile on his lips.

“Have hope, Takeru.”

Takeru’s heart lightened. He nodded and looked back up at the sky. It was still the same starless black, but somehow, the universe seemed to have shifted.

Without a doubt, he knew they were going to be fine.

[bog--unicorn]

Holyfield in the late-season knotweed tangle.

Holyfield is, of course, named after Evander Holyfield… she and Evander both share that “bite” taken out of one ear. Our Holy’s ear wasn’t actually bitten though. Sheep that are going to be transported across state lines or to processing facilities need to have ear tags so that the USDA can control the spread of major health issues like scrapie (a prion disease like mad cow, but occurring in sheep and goats). The ear tag is applied with a piercing gun a lot like you see used on humans in a mall. Most farmers also include additional info on the tag that helps them manage their flock books — for instance, the year the sheep was born, perhaps what breeding line it was from, if it was a twin or triplet, etc. When I first saw Holyfield she wasn’t weaned yet, but by the time she was 8 weeks old and ready to bring back to the farm, she had managed to catch her tag on something and torn part of her ear off. Her farmer asked if I’d rather pick a different lamb, but as they say in the horse world “you can’t ride the head” and I’m comfortable around a bottle of betadine. It healed up well and now it’s just a cosmetic difference.

What first attracted me to Holy was her uncommon-in-Katahdin-sheep moorit coloring. The term “moorit” literally means “like the moors”, meaning the vast boggy heather-covered terrain in the UK where sheep have traditionally been herded for eons. We don’t call cranberry land “moors” in the States, but it’s a similar environment really… cloudy, rainy weather most of the year with iron-rich waterlogged sandy soil over a thick layer of peat. Mosses, lichens, laurels, and briers dominate the flora here along with, of course, cranberry vines; all very tough plants that thrive despite the acidic and nutrient-poor environment. As a color, “moorit” isn’t just brown but that sort of red-green blend you see on the wet bark of pines, in the muted color of fallen, decaying oak leaves, and even the almost purple color of the dormant vines. A very romantic color, if you ask me.

Holyfield has always been a stoic beast. Not just about the ear, which she never fussed about when I had to treat it, but generally. She has always moved confidently and deliberately and has never been shy about making eye contact. She has been then flock’s “scout” or “crier” from a young age — the sheep who is usually on the periphery of the group keeping watch-and-listen even while grazing. A sheep needs a steady nerve for that job, with sense enough to know when to raise an alarm and how to do so in such a way as to direct the flock where to go and not just cause panic. She’s admittedly one of my favorites.

[phytochorion]

How the Forest Finds the Island

Chapter Five - Rain Shadows

Things were taking off, and not just Sen. Able to range further afield, he began scouting the surrounding terrain, encountering sights he hadn't noticed before.

On his arrival to the island, it had been cloaked in lichens, mosses and ferns in a lush scrub, but lacking in taller plants. After he woke from dormancy, his ginkgos and Si-woo's progymnosperms had been prominent in the riparian landscape, but the prairie beyond was still dominated by ferns and their allies. From the ground, and even with the view from his nest, Sen hadn't spotted any more trees, but once airborne, he realised that there were a few after all.

By a couple of days after his wings had grown in, Sen was comfortable enough to fly further afield. One of his excursions took him to the distant mountains, where the sea breeze condensed into a cool and foggy atmosphere. It was here, in an expanding marshland, that he came across a stand of gigantic horsetails. Their structure was much the same as the little horsetails of shady riverbanks he was familiar with, but these were twice the height of his trees. They had been here a good deal longer, or were faster growing, or both.

He spent the rest of the day in the cloudy swamp forest, listening to insects and amphibians call. There was no sign of another fairy. Sen considered the possibility that these trees had gotten here under their own steam, but deemed it unlikely. For spores to drift across the ocean and establish a decently sized population so fast was unlikely, and the spacing between the trees was just regular enough to suggest deliberate planting.

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

On a different day, Sen was flying inland when he spied a thicket of shrubs in the otherwise rocky and desolate landscape. This time he had no doubt that other fairies were responsible. There were signs that water and soil had been transported, sticks had been deliberately arranged, and he could even detect a trace of magic. Excited, he raced home to fetch Si-woo.

Upon returning, Sen flitted to a high crag and looked over the copse. Si-woo landed beside him.

"What do you think, Byun?"

"I think, Gongsun, that this is Tadgh's work!"

"Tadgh?"

"He specialises in earthworking magic. See how the hillside has been carved out? And the stone embankment at the opposite end? He's making sure every last drop of water that flows into this place is retained."

Sen nodded sagely. He hadn't noticed the exact layout of the terracing before, but now that Si-woo drew his attention to it, the pattern was unmistakable.

"Lemme get a closer look," said Si-woo, hopping down to ground level.  He inspected some of the bushes, stopping at a similar, but smaller, plant growing amongst them.

"This is one of Steve's!"

Sen glided down to him. "I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with him either."

"He's like a big brother to us. Don't tell him I said that."

"Us being…?"

"Oh- Hien, Odgerel, Tadgh and I!"

"The progymnosperms!" Exclaimed Sen, the pieces clicking together in his head.

"That's right! What tipped you off?"

"I know Manh Phương Hien. She does remind me of you, come to think of it."

"You flatter me with your comparison." A small smile graced Si-woo's face.

"Think we should wait for them and say hi?", asked Sen.

"It's a nice idea," agreed Si-woo. "Haven't seen them in millennia. I'll give it a few days, but knowing them, they might not come back this way for a long time."

They settled into a sunny patch and waited. Photosynthesising, they didn't speak, but it was reassuring to feel the other's presence nonetheless. As the sun and moon cycled overhead, Sen restored his depleted energy reserves, feeling completely like himself for the first time since arrival.

Eventually, they decided they'd better get back to check on their trees.

As they took flight, Sen remarked, "Wouldn't it be just our luck if they show up the moment we're gone?"

Si-woo laughed as the breeze carried him off. Sen looked back, but there was still nobody there. A soft rain was falling, and the leveed landscape was catching all it could.

[cavefilllingcorporation]

The Birth of the SpelunkRider

Magnus looked at the beauty of a vehicle that stood before him. It was a motorcycle, complete with the technological features to stand out from its competition. It was a journey to get to this point, taking weeks to build. After all, most of the robots that were being commissioned weren’t this large, being shorter than one’s leg. This of course was not that. It was larger than your average motorcycle, at least the one he was working on. He and the crew had made several versions of this, from small bikes to large ones.

He didn’t realize his fascination with motorcycles until he started working on them. Most of his crew kept complaining about the project, and how there seemed to be a setback at every turn. The project literally took weeks! Yet, he wasn’t the one who complained. He realized at that moment that he really liked building the bike. He really didn’t know why; every fiber of his being should have hated this. But here he was, marveling at this beauty. He was definitely going to get one of these for himself, maybe two. Of course, he would make sure to customize his, but that was for later.

What did concern him was the fact that these beauties were going to be sold. Why? These were advanced vehicular transportation. They weren’t just motercycles, they were equipped with technology such as GPS, automatic driving mode, communication with the Corporation, and so much more. He could easily see these models being used for planetary scouting missions. Would be much less conspicuous than flying around in a jetpack or flying close enough to the ground to be seen.

Worse, this final labor of love of his might be the final. The Corporation was considering some budget cuts to continue to find the Anti-Project Plan, and he worried that these robotic projects were going to be on the chopping block. Not that he cared about the rest of the robots, he considered them an insult to his talent, but this… this was worth the effort. To just have this sell for a season and then stop, it would be such a waste.

He then wondered… maybe he could change that. He decided then and there to break protocol and not release the bots in their current forms. Yes, he built the bike exactly to the criteria that was given to him, but what if he could go further? He easily saw how he could upgrade these things. The communications feature from earlier was just a theoretical thing, if he could do it, and make it long range at that, it could make it useful. Improve the bike so that it could go on any terrain. Add apps and AI that could assist solo drivers. He knew most of the work would be software and electronic based, meaning he would have to mostly work on a computer to either code the software or make new motherboards, and it would not be easy. But it was at this point he realized that this sort of job was not meant to be easy. Maybe, developing technology was not supposed to be a breeze, no matter how intelligent you were. Thus, he decided to go ahead and dive into his magnus opus: The Creation of the SpelunkRider, what he hoped would end up being the go to travel method for the Corporation’s Scouts.

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 9

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) Note: Confession time, in chapter 3 I originally had the Jedi reporting that Koril had probably already left the planet, but writing this I came up with a better idea that felt more impactful, so I went and retroactively changed that one sentence. That was a terrible lack of initial story planning on my part.

Eleven months ago

“How certain are you that she's still down there?”, Nita raises her eyebrow at the hologram of a dark-skinned woman with curly hair tied back.

“Completely”, Master Holden responds. “As you've no doubt been told, we've maintained a constant presence since the incident. And” she correctly guesses the next question, “She could not have left the world without us knowing. We've had three starfighters patrolling the orbit – neither they nor our planetside scanners have detected any craft departing the world.”

“Understood.” Based on the reports she's read on her way to Brendok, Nita decides to dismiss the possibility of the witches having access to a stealth ship such as her own. The small fleet uncovered beneath the ruins of the fortress consisted of a few bulky transports and sturdy gunships, neither overly sophisticated, as well as heavily damaged during the previous month's battle.

“We were instructed to clear the planet upon your arrival. We will meet you at our base in the fortress before we do so”, Holden continues.

“Thank you, Master Holden, that won't be necessary”, Nita muses. “I need you to take off before I land. Let her think we've given up the search. I'll reach out to you once I'm out of hyperspace.” “As you say, Master Shairan.” Holden bows, and she returns the gesture before cutting the transmission.

True to Holden's word, the Jedi contingent is airborne almost as soon as Nita signals her arrival. She crosses paths with their transport on her way to the surface. At her instructions, they would stay above orbit with the three starfighters until Nita is completely satisfied that none of the witches' ships are still functional. She lands on one of the three still-functional platforms near the top of the fortress. It is obscured by the mountain on all sides, rendering it effectively invisible from the ground. Once there, she activates three small, floating recon droids and sends them to scout the surrounding terrain. The witch – Mother Koril, as Sol had heard her called by the twins during their escapades into the woods – would have seen her colleagues leave this place and would now likely make her way back. How long it would take her or which direction she might come from, Nita has no notion, so she makes her way to the remnants of the witches' fleet while the droids are busy. It takes her a while to find a path, most of the tunnels having been buried.

It is exactly as described – at first glance, there is not a ship left intact. Torn hulls, crushed engines, several ships outright flattened by falling mortar... As she circles what had once been a hangar bay, Nita discovers a single gunship with only minor dents to the hull. From this distance, it appears still spaceworthy, so she slides down for a closer inspection.

Several crucial engine components are missing. Holden or someone on her team had clearly had the good sense to remove them. This doesn't mean there isn't another one somewhere further out, Nita notes, though she is pleased.

She sits on the ground cross-legged, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. With herself and Mother Koril now the only sentient beings on the planet, she should be able to sense the latter. She is a Jedi Shadow, and in this she knows she is unmatched – save perhaps for the members of the Council of the First Knowledge. With steady breaths, she reaches out with her consciousness, first to the walls of the cavern, and then slowly further outward, past the edges of the fortress, past the recon droids, through the surrounding forest, in all directions at once... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her.

A herd of large, scaly creatures to the north. A stream running through the woods to the east. A narrow path to the south-east. At its end, a gargantuan bunta tree... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her.

The forest turns into a veritable jungle as it sprawls southward... She is one with the Force, and the Force is with her. Further, further south... And just there, at the very edges of her vision, untold kilometers away, a presence.

Nita redirects all her focus to it, and sees it clearly: a woman, long auburn hair streaming behind her, atop a lithe horned mount that leaps and bobs and weaves its way through the jungle. She follows them. Her theory had been correct – Mother Koril was riding directly towards the fortress.

Nita finally opens her eyes and checks the chrono. It shows that she had been meditating for twelve hours. Unsurprising, as time held no relevance to the Force.

She stretches her legs and grabs a holomap of the area from her pouch. It is incomplete, having been compiled by various Jedi only in the past couple of months, but the jungle she's just seen is on it. Judging by its distance from the fortress and Mother Koril's current pace, it will be at least three days before she reaches it. Possibly more, she theorizes. Satisfied with her findings, she comms Holden and gives permission for their ships to leave Brendok. The witch will not be taking flight without Nita.

Though it would give her time to explore the place more thoroughly, she does not relish the notion of spending several days in this mountain of ghosts. It is too much time to think on what happened here, Nita knows, and if she is not careful, it will certainly not benefit her already shaky resolve to complete this mission.

*** Three days hence, as if on schedule, one of the recon droids alerts her of the approaching rider. It was wholly redundant – Nita was jerked awake by the witch's presence as soon as she entered the fifteen-kilometer radius.

She takes up a position behind the remnants of a wall right by the entry of the tunnel that Koril is heading towards, cloaks her own presence in the Force, and waits.

There is a sound of approaching hoofbeats, and soon the witch and her mount appear from behind the treeline. Nita observes the figure shakily dismount, and as she takes heavy steps towards the fortress, gets a first proper look at her.

Mother Koril's maroon robes are tattered and filthy. The blue tunic under them hangs loose as if she had quickly lost weight. Her long hair, which might have been braided once, is a tangled mess of auburn wires. The dark tattoos on her unnaturally pale, bony face give her the appearance of a wraith, an impression made more powerful by the hollow expression of her yellow eyes. Even the color of her horns is off.

Nita nearly curses aloud. She doesn't know what she was expecting – mostly, she was trying not to expect anything at all – but this is...

“Osha! Mae!”, Koril calls out in a hoarse voice. When no response comes, she tries again, louder, more frantically. And then a third time, and a fourth.

Nita is clutching her stun blaster and shaking from head to toe. That the witch hasn't sensed her is a wonder. Another testament to her current state. Stun her, a voice in her head urges, just stun her and get it over with. It will be a mercy.

Mercy? She blinks. What mercy is it to have her wake Force-knows-where, bound, with a Jedi standing over her?

Koril stumbles into the tunnel. The motion involuntarily snaps Nita back into focus, and she waits a few seconds before leaving the hiding spot and stalking after her. She makes certain to always stay at least one corner behind the witch as they make their way through the dark, winding passages. Her hunting instincts now having taken over, her mind is clear but for one thought – follow.

As Koril enters a spacious chamber still illuminated by a few flickering lights, Nita has a clear line of sight. She reaches for the stun blaster at her belt again – and yet again, her resolve wobbles once she realizes where they are.

It is where the brunt of the battle had taken place and where the Jedi subsequently buried the witches.

A single, heart-rending scream pierces the silence.

Nita turns and runs back into the tunnels, leaving the former Clan Mother to grieve alone.

*** A week has passed, during which Koril has scoured the fortress from top to bottom, hoping against hope to find her daughters. She has either not yet seen Nita's ship, or simply does not care anymore.

Leaving the probe droids in the fortress – with instructions to inform her if Koril attempts to harm herself – the Jedi Shadow has made a new discovery. As she had suspected, there is another starship on the planet, and it is hidden in a secret hangar underneath the massive bunta tree. Ten days ago, this would have been cause for concern.

Now, a part of her is relieved. She has not decided on a course of action quite yet, but trusts that she will know what to do when the time comes.

Another three days, and Koril comes to the clearing around the bunta tree, looking even worse than the last time Nita has seen her. If she had difficulty walking before, now she is barely moving – but she seems determined to reach a particular destination. And surely enough, she soon disappears somewhere beneath the roots of the tree. Nita senses her shuffling about the hangar and knows that there is still a time window to catch up with the witch and prevent her from leaving. However, as that time window is rapidly closing, she doesn't move.

The ground gives a mighty quake. Further down the clearing, it opens with the screeching of an old mechanism, and a light gunship emerges.

Nita simply sits on the grass cross-legged and watches it take off. If not you, Vernestra will just send someone else, Indara's words echo in her mind. As long as she is on it, as long as the Jedi believe that she is on it, there will be no cause to send more people after Koril, and suddenly Nita knows precisely what to do. The only question remaining is what she could share with Indara. *** Her former Master is not one to be fooled, even if Nita were so inclined.

“Whatever you are about to do, I'm begging you, don't”, the holo lightly flickers as she raises a hand, “tell me about it. I cannot officially know, and I am quite certain that I don't want to.” She is seeing right through her.

Indara continues in the same tone, “Your official report is that she made it offworld in an undiscovered ship before you ever got there, but you've found clues as to where she may be headed and you are going after her... However long that may take... Yes?” “Just so, Master. To continue the pursuit effectively, I'll have to go under deep cover and I won't be able to report in for some time.” “Months, possibly even longer”, Indara adds emphatically. “We won't be sending assistance without your explicit request so as not to jeopardize your operation.”

“And you won't have to send a search party for me when I don't report in because you will be able to sense that I'm alive and well”, Nita finishes.

“Exactly right. We understand one another.” The older woman softens. “I do hope you know what you're doing... on this mission... and know that I will miss you.”

“And I you”, Nita responds sincerely. “May the Force always be with you, my dear.”

With these parting words, Indara cuts the transmission, leaving Nita to the deafening silence of space.

She punches random coordinates into the console and jumps into hyperspace.

End note: So... yeah. My initial idea involved Nita using psychometry to see how the battle played out, to really hammer in the horror of it. And then while writing this I decided that Nita seeing Koril in person before Nar Shaddaa and actively choosing to let her go would carry more narrative weight. Additionally, it gave me an opportunity to show off Nita's skills as a Shadow and contrast them with the hunting in the previous chapter.