#and although my dark urge dueled her and killed her in one move her transformation was so fucking epic (and for what?..

[eldrichthingy]

I'm getting more and more obsessed with Orin. She's honestly my favorite villain in the whole game I love her so much-

[siennahrobek]

“Let me get this straight,” Cody struggled to express. You worked with Alpha-17.” The two of them had gone through the Temple after General Kenobi finished up his few communications and then explained to Cody what had happened on Kamino. The whole thing was rather bizarre, although not unwelcome. He definitely wanted as many of his brothers to flee with him and the Jedi as possible. He just never thought that Alpha-17 would lead a mutiny against the Kaminise and other natborns on the planet to take it over and start preparing for their own evacuation, planning to stay with the Jedi.

A few Temple guards would give General Kenobi a glance and then type something into their comm devices. Cody wasn’t entirely sure what they was about but Obi-Wan seemed rather unbothered.

General Kenobi hummed. “Many times.”

“You know Alpha-17.”

“Quite well, actually.”

“And he staged a mutiny after you warned him of the chips and Sith.”

“It appeared that way.”

“We are speaking of the same Alpha-17, correct? Big, burly, strictly loyal to the Republic, implies that the Jedi are kind of dumb and doesn’t seem to particularly care much about them, Alpha-17?”

“I wouldn’t say he dislikes Jedi,” General Kenobi replied, brows creasing.

“The Alpha-17 that practically doesn’t speak particularly kindly of anyone outside his-,” Cody stopped and thought about this for a moment. Did…was it possible? Alpha-17 of all people? There were stories about him being vaguely nicer ish when he came back and was stationed at Kamino full time as a trainer but, Cody had thought they were just that, stories.

General Kenobi glanced at him. “What?”

Cody shook his head. He would have to wrap his mind around that whole idea for later. “Nothing, sir. Just surprised he staged a mutiny and evacuation for you.”

General Kenobi snorted. “He didn’t do it for me. I just warned him.”

“As you say, sir.”

Time went on and the two of them worked harder and harder, talking and moving and even scouting the perimeter. Everything was in a hustle and bustle. Finally, someone mentioned anything Kenobi wanted to bring along. He had paused, like he hadn’t really thought of it; he hadn’t been anywhere near his own quarters. Cody surmised he probably hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he would probably never return.

It took some urging, but the two of them finally made their way to Kenobi’s quarters.

They stood at the doorway of his quarters; his general’s name emblazoned on a plate at the door. He hesitated before opening it and stepping inside. Cody hadn’t been here before; usually when he was in the Temple there was a reason and with all the duties that he and General Kenobi had, there wasn’t a lot of time for relaxation. The jedi took a deep breath of stale air and turned on the lights.

It was simple a small, although Cody had a feeling that the lack of personal items was due mostly to the war and being out all the time, rather than anything else. He didn’t spend much time here, Cody knew.

“Go pack some things, General,” Cody said, quietly. “I’ll see what I can get from the kitchenette.” He didn’t wait for an answer when he moved to the kitchen area, putting a few things of silverware in a box before setting it outside for one of his boys to pick up on their rounds down the hall. Afterwards, he had waited a few minutes for his jedi to return from his room, but curiosity got the better of him and he walked towards the door. There was an open duffle on the bed, a few items Cody couldn’t quite make out stuffed inside over the clothes. A dark case sat next to it. General Kenobi sat on the mattress, an unfamiliar lightsaber in his palms as he stared at it. It wasn’t Kenobi’s, Cody knew, and he was fairly certain it wasn’t Anakin’s either, as that one was clicked to the jedi’s belt.

“Whose is that?” he asked, softly.

“This saber was my masters, Qui-Gon Jinn. I had used it for some time after he died, used it to defeat the Sith, Darth Maul that had killed him,” General Kenobi explained, his voice a little void of the usual tones Cody was used to hearing from him. “I had used it afterwards before Master Yoda told me I should go to Illum to construct another. He would have hated what we became.”

“I didn’t know Ge-Master Jinn,” Cody admitted. “But in the end, you have saved countless lives of not only civilians and innocents, but me and my brothers as well. This was going to happen with or without you. The Jedi just did what they could to protect those they could and bring down the death toll. You always told me it was a Jedi’s duty to put others’ lives before your own, to help and protect them the best you could, to work for the greater good. I believe you did the best with the crappy situation you were forced into.”

General Kenobi’s gaze was warm and kind but very tired. He stood up and walked towards Cody before taking Cody’s arm and pressing the hilt in his palm. Cody couldn’t look at him and just stared at the saber, his mind buzzing. “I would like you to carry this, use it if necessary,” General Kenobi said with a deep breath.  “It has been sitting in my drawer for too long; it should protect people once more.”

“General, I-,” Cody started but General Kenobi shook his head.

“Trust me, Cody,” he assured. “There are few as worthy.”

The hilt was warm in his hand. He closed his fingers and nodded, firmly. “I will protect it with my life, sir.”

General Kenobi smirked. “I’m fairly certain it will be the other way around.”

Cody didn’t even get a chance to answer when General Kenobi’s commlink beeped. Pressing a button, he answered with a simple “Kenobi here.”

“Obi-Wan,” came the grumbling yet pleased voice of Kenobi’s diner friend, Dexter Jettser. “At least you’re alive.”

An eyebrow hiked up on his face as General Kenobi looked vaguely surprised. “Was there a doubt?”

“The Temple looks partially sunken in and is on fire, the clones are killing jedi,” Dex replied, uncharacteristically serious and dour. “I wasn’t sure if you were planet side or not and had doubts.”

“I am alive and have survived the siege on the Temple. We have pushed the attacking force back for now and are starting to…pack,” he replied, carefully. Dex seemed to get his meaning.

“Understood. You have a friend in me, always,” the besalisk promised. “But I have two Jedi here, one is in pretty rough shape. I’m working on transport for them, but it might be a moment. I don’t know where you will be. I won’t send them to the Temple, obviously.”

“Before the war, I asked you about a certain poison dart,” General Kenobi hummed, almost amused. Cody raised an eyebrow raised an eyebrow at him.

“Gotcha, that helps,” Dex replied. Cody didn’t know exactly what that meant or how Dex seemed to know exactly what General Kenobi was talking about, but they appeared sure and Cody could trust General Kenobi.

“And Dex?”

“Yeah?”

“The Clones, it…it isn’t their fault,” General Kenobi added, quietly. “They have chips in their brains that force them to comply. They are easy to find if you have an advanced enough droid and medical equipment and easy to remove but we did not know about them until recently. The Sith…the Sith have done this.”

For the first time ever, Cody heard the diner owner let out a string of curses. General Kenobi looked a little surprised too. “I understand,” he repeated, nearly in a growl. Dex had been pretty good to the clones during the course of the war. He gave them snacks and even passed along treats through General Kenobi for the 212th. They were welcome in his diner. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I know how you feel about those boys.”

General Kenobi cast his eyes aside and closed them for a long moment. “We are doing all we can at this point,” he added.

“You should get going. I will leave you to it. Good luck, Obi-Wan. Stay alive.”

The new silence felt like it consumed everything. Neither was willing to speak. General Kenobi grabbed his bag in one hand and the dark case in the other and made his way towards the door. “We should get going,” he finally let out.

“I’m sure the evacuation is well on it’s way,” Cody added. “I have gotten a few updates; the ship is quickly filling up. Things are running mostly smoothly. Organa’s ships have sped things up rather drastically. He’s a good ally.”

“That he is,” Obi-Wan agreed, as they got through the door. Two soldiers came up to them and grabbed the box from the front and offered to take Kenobi’s other things. It only took a little urging to get him to give them up. “I hope Ahsoka, and Master Feemor have gone up,” he murmured. “Rex was with them; I believe he is fine.”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Cody confessed. “I didn’t know he was planet side.”

“I had warned Ahsoka not to come but she did anyways. I felt Rex as well, but I think Master Feemor had convinced him to go to the Healing Halls immediately,” General Kenobi explained, softly as they worked their way down the halls, abandoning the jedi’s quarters for what would probably be the last time. It was no sentimental affair.

“But not Ahsoka?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, a bit bitterly. “She had stayed just long enough during my duel with…with Anakin to watch him slaughter a youngling and a padawan. After that, Master Feemor took her away. I don’t know what to say to her when I see her,” he admitted.

Cody clenched his gloved hand into a fist, trying to work through and release his anger. He was generally good at it, except for the fact that the person who betrayed them was someone Cody thought would never try to kill his general. Killing innocent children…that was beyond terrible. He tried not to think too hard on it, but did he want Skywalker to burn. They continued to walk down the halls, a bit briskly. “Do you know this Master Feemor? I’ve been hearing a lot of him from you.”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, bringing a hand up to his chin, trying quite hard to think. “Not really. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I cannot seem to place him. When we escape, I will have to ask him some time. He helped me turn away the homing beacon for the jedi out in the field. And he assisted me, at least at times, with my duel with Anakin.”

There was a pause and Cody narrowed his eyes. Someone he would have to look into, for sure.

Thoughts and silence were broken by the incessant beeping on Obi-Wan’s commlink. Cody was hoping, if anything, it would just be an update from Master Drallig or Boil on how the evacuation was going. Perhaps they were almost done, and they could get a move on. They were not so lucky.

“Obi-Wan,” Senator Amidala’s voice was part fury, part relief and part frustration. There was a lot to pick up on and Cody’ wasn’t sure how to feel about it right now. Did she have to do this now? “Finally, you picked up. Obi-Wan what in the world is happening? I have been trying to get a hold of you forever! I can’t get in contact with Anakin and then Ahsoka said something that just could not be true at all about him. Bail and I went to a Senate meeting where Palpatine created an Empire and said the Jedi were traitors! What is happening?”

This was not going to be a pleasant conversation, Cody knew, especially from the look on General Kenobi’s face, which was drawn out and exhausted. Talking with politicians was never pleasant. At least with what General Kenobi had said about Organa, that man had made things extremely brief, offering up his ships and services instead of pressing for questions.

“I do not have time right now, Senator,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice as calm as ever. It was probably good she couldn’t see him; he looked exhausted and probably not entirely pleased with her at the moment. “We are evacuating the Temple of as of currently and Anakin is a complicated subject.”

“We need to talk.”

“About Anakin or about your pregnancy?”

“Y-You know about that?”

“Of course, I know about that,” Obi-Wan added with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The pregnancy thing was new to Cody, but he knew about Skywalker’s relationship with the Senator. They weren’t nearly as subtle as they thought they were and Cody had an amusing time ribbing Rex about it, although it wasn’t generally blatantly. “And Anakin is the father no doubt.”

“Y-yes.”

“That is very dangerous, Senator,” he sighed lightly again. “How far exactly are you along now?”

“I’m due within the next week or two.”

Obi-Wan’s face dropped so far Cody started to worry. His expression then hardened into determination. “Senator, you must leave and come with the Jedi-,” Cody shot him an alarmed looked. “If you want the children to survive.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Look this is all very complicated but you are going to need the help of the Jedi Healer. Pregnancies with force sensitives can be extremely difficult, especially when the pregnant partner is not,” General Kenobi explained, clear and steady. “And with Anakin’s midiclorian count and power with the Force, it is entirely possible you will die if you do not get help from Jedi healers when it is time for you to give birth. And given the fact that you are carrying twins-.”

“Twins?!”

So apparently the Senator did not know that. Wasn’t there pre-birth care for upcoming mothers, Cody mused.

Obi-Wan barely skipped a beat. “That also puts the risks much higher. The jedi are not sticking around the Temple to get slaughtered by the new emperor. So, if you want your children and yourself to live, you need to come with us.” His statement was firm and unyielding. There was no real debate, no choice to really make if she wanted her children to have a chance.

The Senator was quiet for a long moment. “Alright,” she conceded. “For my children. I do not believe what has been said about Anakin. He is a good person and can be saved…but I need to think about my…children right now.”

“If you are to come with us, you must leave immediately. We do not have much time and we cannot afford to wait. We have our own children to think about as well,” Obi-Wan gritted his teeth before taking a deep breath and smoothing himself out. “If you need help to get to the Negotiator, contact Senator Organa.”

“I will take my own ship,” she announced. “Just let your men know I am coming.”

“We will. Goodbye, Padme. I will explain that I can when we meet again.”

Obi-Wan didn’t wait for her to respond and hung up. There was a moment of silence before he leaned himself against the wall, as if he couldn’t hold himself up again. “This is a mess.”

“She doesn’t know about Skywalker?”

“I believe Ahsoka may have called her but…Padme loves him, I doubt she would want to believe it. She sees the best in him,” he shook his head.

Cody nearly snorted. “So do you. Sometimes it’s just not enough. Come on, General, I know you won’t go up until the last ship, until everyone else is aboard, but we can find somewhere to help until then.”

“I would like to see how the medical staff is doing; things would be going rather slow for them, as it is more difficult to move the injured. And also, perhaps, some of the freed clones if we can. I cannot imagine the difficult time they are having, waking up from being brainwashed only to run around to evacuate without being able to deal with what has happened to them.” He sounded so mournful, just thick with feeling and tension, more than Cody had ever really heard from him. General Kenobi tended to be quiet and private with his grief, although open with his praise. It was a bit rare to see such a show of heartache in others’ presence.

This was hard. For him, for Cody, for the Jedi. Cody was just trying not to think about it right; one thing at a time. He could only do so much to help and save as many as he could. Every so often his fist would curl, his legs would shake, his brain would get full, but Cody did what he did best; he pushed on. And on and on.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the outcome right now. He was still trying not to think about the fact that he had been, although briefly, brainwashed and taken over by the Sith. Even though he hadn’t done any damage, the feeling was still there, oily and disgusting. It made his skin crawl.

Cody couldn’t imagine what the rescued 501st was feeling right now.

But General Kenobi was determined, and Cody couldn’t help but go along with it. He would stay by his general’s side. He just dreaded what he would see when he saw his brothers and what was left of them.

[mathiaskillmaster]

My GOT Ending: Battle of Winterfell (Episode 3 Season 8) Part 3

After a fierce fight and having successfully barricaded the doors of the crypts, Arya leads Sandor, Davos, Beric, Jaime, Brienne and Gendry towards the secret underground. All can see that Sansa has already taken all the refugees for a long time, the crypt being deserted. Ghost goes first, followed by Arya. Behind them, the dead pound the doors to knock them down and seem to be about to get there. Further underground, Sansa and Gilly continue to lead the inhabitants through the darkness of the tunnel, getting closer to the exit. Missandei and Varys stay in the middle while Tyrion, Samwell and Podrick go on the march. But suddenly, a wight that had managed to come in and follow them emerges from the shadows screaming and throws himself on Tyrion who finds himself plastered on his back, the face of the dead almost stuck to his. Samwell and Podrick intervene and push the dead man back. Sam kills him with a dagger in his head, while Podrick helps Tyrion get up, grateful to both men. ********* For his part, Jorah continues to run as fast as he can, while around him, the wights rain without end from the top of the ramparts and pour into the streets, slaughtering even more soldiers. Jorah can see with horror, unsullied and dothrakis transformed into living corpses and beating down on their surviving comrades. A large mass of these walking corpses spot and rush on him. In a reflex, the Andal knight closes the iron grate in front of him, blocking access to this part of the castle. The wights throw themselves, in a larger and larger group, against the grates, rubbing and tearing the flesh of their faces against the iron. Jorah remains for a moment, breathing hard and remaining paralyzed with fear at the sight in front of him. These dozens of zombies glued to the gate and climbing each other, staring at him with their soulless blue eyes, growling like wild beasts, and holding out their hands through the bars to try to grab him. Jorah then notes that the hinges of the grid begin to slowly give way under the growing weight of the corpses. It will not last very long, he knows it. After a frantic race, Jorah comes out of breath in the sacred wood, to find Theon, Alys, the ironborn soldiers, all perplexed and worried. Behind them, Bran is still is trance. _"Ser Jorah?" Asked Theon, cut off immediately by the Andal knight, out of breath, who seized him on the shoulder. Farther on, the din of the grating yielding and tumbling on the ground with a roar, makes Jorah shudder with horror. _ "The dead are coming ... we must leave immediately!" Wights are coming closer and closer to the entrance of the sacred grove, their infinite growls being heard. But suddenly, Bran seems to react in his trance and brings back a protective and very ancient magic from the ancestral tree. The walls and the entrance of the sacred wood are thus impregnated with the same magic that protected the cavern of the old three-eyed raven. Immediately, the wights passing the entrance of the wood or attempting to climb the walls are sprayed. Seeing this, the undead stop at the entrance of the wood. ******** In the sky, Rhaegal begins to show serious signs of exhaustion, against Viserion still vigorous and enraged that begins to take over. But Daenerys and Drogon reappear and again, start the fight against Viserion. Daenerys unfortunately sees Rhaegal in a sorry state and that he begins to sink dangerously into the void. The Queen of Dragons, despite the anxiety, continues to lead Drogon against Viserion, who does not seem ready to be defeated. Drogon in a bite manages to snatch half of the flesh from Viserion's face, exposing his roaring skull. ******** On the ground, Jon and the Night King continue their duel, but the king of the dead is much stronger and experienced. Jon is often forced to dodge. Every shot he blocks makes his bones shake, showing the physical strength of the white walkers king. Valyrian steel and magical ice shock in powerful blows and resonate in the night. Unfortunately, a violent, well-placed blow sends Jon flying for several meters and crashing into the snow, half-stunned. The Night King then sheaths his sword and suddenly raises his arms, triggering his terrible necromancer power. With horror, Jon sees the hundreds of corpses covering the field begin to convulse, then open their blue eyes without expressions, and get up little by little, forming new dead-alive troops. Inside Winterfell, the same macabre spectacle is reproduced. Alone and seeing these hundreds of dead now turning to him, Jon feels that it is the end, but decides to fight until the end. But Rhaegal, although wounded and weak, arrives from the sky and lands just behind Jon. The latter seizes the opportunity and climbs immediately on the back of the dragon who flies with him, out of reach of the wights. The Night King seeing this, made Viserion come to him. The undead dragon arrives, having managed to free himself from the fight against Drogon. The Night King climbs on the back of Viserion and chases Jon and Rhaegal. Daenerys arrives, to see Jon and Rhaegal fly off and away from Winterfell. Daenerys understands the ploy. Jon keeps the Night King away from Winterfell so everyone can escape. Also deciding to give the survivors time, Daenerys decides to trust Jon and gives free rein to Drogon's fury. The dragon watered Winterfell's fields in a deluge of flames, destroying hundreds of new, reanimated corpses, most of them made up of northern soldiers, but also of dothrakis and unsullied ones. The heart of Daenerys breaks as she finds herself forced to burn her own old troops. Jon on Rhaegal continues to move away from Winterfell in the air, the Night King pursuing him relentlessly with Viserion. Unfortunately, the Night King manages to throw another ice javelin, which this time, reaches Rhaegal at the ribs. Roaring with pain, the dragon loses altitude and crashes violently in the snow. Jon is ejected forward and rolls in the snow, sounded. Desiring to finish it, the Night King orders Viserion to spit a brutal breath of flames, which he does. The body of Rhaegal, dying, is destroyed by the blue fire covering it fully, and Jon manages to escape by throwing himself behind rocks. Finding the facts, the Night King and Viserion turn back, towards Winterfell, to the great damn Jon who is now lost in the wilderness, in the middle of the storm. ******** Sansa and the inhabitants finally reached the exit of the tunnel, leading them not far from the city of White Harbor. But then they hear suspicious noises coming from the crypts. Ready to defend themselves, it is with relief that they see Arya, Beric, Sandor, Davos, Jaime, Brienne, Ghost and Gendry also out of the underground. Arya and Sansa hug with strength, reassured to see each other alive. But the reunion is shortened by the arrival a legion of wights having bypassed Winterfell and now rushing on them. But as they approached, the creatures are all swept by powerful flames emerging from the ground as if by magic. All are stunned, with the exception of Beric, who recognizes this particular magic. From the darkness of the storm emerge Melisandre and Kinvara, the two priestesses, accompanied by a dozen other priests and red priestesses. _"My ladies," Beric greeted them with great respect. Arya recognizes in Melisandre the red woman who had kidnapped Gendry and although grateful for her intervention, gives her a glare. Varys, Brienne and Davos also recognize her, while Tyrion recognizes Kinvara who gives him a brief salute. _"What are you doing there?" Arya asks with a little suspicion. Melisandre smiles and speaks. _"We are here by the will of the lord of the light, the war against the darkness must continue, each of us having a role to play ..." _ "But what fucking roles are you talking about?!" Sandor abruptly interrupted her, at the edge of the nervous breakdown. "You don't see that it's screwed?! We just got our asses kicked! Winterfell fell! It's over!" Melisandre was not taken aback by the words of the Limier and remained calm. _"As long as life remains, so is hope, Sandor Clegane." she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Nothing is lost yet, it is not today that you will die." Sandor remained puzzled by this statement, as many did. _"No time to lose, White Harbor is not very far away." Sansa urged, getting approval from a lot of people. Melisandre, Kinvara and the red priests join them as escorts. ********* At Winterfell, devastated by chaos, Viserion lands in the ruined yard of the castle, and the Night King sets foot on the ground, surrounded by wights that deviate to lethim pass. Accompanied by the white walkers, The Night King advances to the entrance of the sacred wood, to feel the protective magic invoked by Bran. The Night King places his hand on the ground, creating a crack that spreads over the rock and violently hits the protective barrier. Although strucked mentally by the impact, Bran resists and gets out of his trance, to talk to Jorah and Theon. _"The Night King is here, he's trying to get in. I don't think I can hold him back indefinitely." Other shocks occur in Bran's mind. The Night King insists heavily and will not stop. Bran resists as much as possible, but after several minutes of fierce fighting, the barrier breaks. The Night King, the white walkers and the wights begin to advance in the sacred wood, at the sight of Theon, Jorah, Alys and the ironborns, ready to fight. The Night King first sends the wights to the assault. Armed with bows and fiery arrows, Theon, Alys and the ironborns fire at will, shooting down all the undead on approach. Jorah stays with Bran to serve as his last defense. However, the number of dead is increasing and already several ironborns are put to the ground and massacred by the creatures. Theon soon finds himself fighting in hand-to-hand combat, killing several wights. Alys is also thrown to the ground and impaled by several zombies at once in a sheaf of blood. Jorah grit his teeth at the carnage while Bran remains calm and unmoved. While all seems lost, a roar is heard and Drogon rises above the sacred wood and lands near the tree. _ "Come with me!!" Daenerys screamed to them, perched on the back of the dragon. Jorah seems hesitant and turns to Theon. _"Go ahead, I'll hold them back!" said the ironborn prince, finishing a wight on the ground. Seeing the dragon, the Night King and the white walkers begin to advance, their weapons in hand. Although hesitant to leave him, Jorah addresses a sincere nod to Theon, then takes Bran in his arms. Daenerys helps him to pull himself up with Bran on Drogon's back. The dragon flies away, taking Dany, Bran and Jorah out of reach of danger. Theon remains alone, the only survivor of the massacre, to find himself encircled by the dead. His face shows surprise and horror as he recognizes one of the wights standing among them. Hodor! The nice giant remained serving the Stark family. He stood there, decomposed and with blue eyes. The Night King arrives in his turn and looks at Theon. Knowingly condemned, Theon does not cry, and armed with a spear, rushes screaming with all his strength on the king of the walkers. The latter against without difficulty the young man, breaking the spear in two and impaled Theon with the broken tip. Paralyzed in pain, Theon does not scream, does not beg, the blood flowing from his mouth and addresses one last determined look at the Night King, before collapsing dead at his feet. In the air, on Drogon's back, Bran whispers these words for his fallen friend. _ "You were a good man, Theon ..... thank you ...." After taking a final look at Theon's last breath of life, the Night King steps forward, spearing the dragon's blue eyes away from the night sky, then turns around, followed by the other white walkers and the army of undead. ********* Meanwhile, Jon continues to roam alone and lost in the middle of the moors in the storm. Armed with Long Claw, the young man advances as best he can against the wind, in the thick snow. But as he walks, Jon suddenly sees the silhouettes of a troop of riders on approach. Thinking of white walkers, Jon is preparing to fight. But it is with astonishment that he sees men alive, in gilded armor, and pointing at him with crossbows and bows. One of the men in gold armor, the one who seems to be the leader, advances on his horse and reveals himself. It's Harry Strickland, the leader of the golden company, hired by Cersei. Targeted by these men, Jon knows he has no chance to kill them all with his only sword. _"Well, here's a happy surprise. Jon Snow, the king of the north himself, lost in the middle of nowhere." Harry said with a satisfied smile, accompanied by laughter from his men. _ "Listen to me, you have to help us, I ..." Jon tries to explain himself, but Harry Strickland's blade comes to rest against the chin of Jon, forcing him to raise his hands and shut up. _"Queen Cersei will give us a very nice reward for you, Lord Snow. Catch him, guys! Jon is stunned as two of the riders tie his wrists with chains. He is forced to follow the group of riders in a southerly direction, not without casting a last worried look behind him, not knowing the current situation at Winterfell. ********* The survivors of the battle, escorted by the priests and priestesses of R'hllor, finally arrive at the city of White Harbor, where are anchored the ships of the Targaryen fleet. Without further ado, Sansa, Tyrion, Missandei, Gilly, Samwell and Varys begin to embark all the inhabitants on the ships. Unfortunately, the wights are already coming to the survivors and a huge horde of dead rush over them to shred them. Melisandre, Kinvara and the other red priests form a line, uttering incantations in the Valyrian language, and unleash an immense wall of flame in front of them, covering the first row of wights and blocking the passage to those after. Beric comes to stand beside his masters. Behind them, Arya, Sandor, Brienne, Jaime, Davos, Gendry and Podrick are also ready to fight back with the surviving soldiers. Behind the great wall of flames blocking access, the Night King steps forward with the white walkers, feeling the presence of red priests nearby. The Night King reaches out, and in a telepathic order, orders his hordes of dead to throw themselves into the flames, to form real footbridges of corpses and smother the flames little by little. Seeing him do and the fire begin to weaken more and more under the body chafing, Melisandre and Kinvara throw themselves the same puzzled look. _ "Embark all, now!" said Melisandre to the survivors. Although Arya does not want to obey, she is seized by Sandor who lifts her up and takes her with him on one of the ships. Arya protests and strikes even Sandor, but without success. Gendry holds her too. Samwell embarks on a ship with Gilly and Little Sam, on the same as Varys, Davos and Missandei. Tyrion and Sansa board the same ship, with Ghost, Podrick, Brienne and Jaime. The roar of Drogon and heard and the dragon appears, flying over the ships, with Daenerys, Jorah and Bran on the back. Daenerys contemplates the boarding of the survivors, but her heart squeezes as she does not see Jon and Rhaegal. Where are they? She also sees the Night King behind the wall of flames. She is tempted to make fire raining again, but does not want to risk exposing Drogon to another javelin throw from the King of the Dead. The first wights begin to pass the flames, but are shot down by Beric who has decided to stay with the priestesses. But the dead are more and more numerous to pass, and already, the figures of the Night King and the white walkers can be guessed through the flames, advancing little by little. Kinvara, seeing the situation, turns to Melisandre and gives her an order. _"Embark on one of the ships. Your task is not done yet, you know what the Lord expects from you, as he expects from us." Melisandre seems to fully understand the order of her superior and accepts it without question, breaking off the spell and starting to move towards the ships. But before she leaves, Beric holds her by the wrist and whispers her something in her ear. _"I'll tell it to Sandor Clegane, I promise you." she says. _"Thank you my lady." said the knight without banners. Melisandre nods, promising to do it. Melisandre climbs the bridge and climbs onto the same ship where Arya and Sandor are. While all embarked, the anchors returned and the ships began to slowly but slowly move away from the wharves, escorted from the skies by Drogon and Daenerys. On the quays, the wights pass in hordes and rush to Kinvara, Beric and the priests, determined to obstruct them. In another incantation, Kinvara and the priests begin to invoke a powerful spell, while Beric, his fiery sword, lifts it, triumphs and yells these words: _ "Because the night is dark is full of terror!" And with these words, Kinvara and the red priests unleash a powerful explosion of flames, which pulverize them as well as Beric, but also the dozens of wights who were about to throw themselves on them. From the ship, Melisandre contemplated the sacrifice of her brothers and sisters of the order, as well as Beric Dondarrion, and addresses a prayer to their memory. They have done their duty, just as she will have to do hers. Silent, Melisandre walks away towards the cabins, juste after throw a glance before Sandor Clegane, who notices but says nothing. As the ships move away from the coast, all of them look at the flames evaporating, and the Night King advancing to the edge of the water, staring at the ships. Behind him, the white walkers and the army of the dead, who despite having suffered many casualties, still seemed as immense as ever before. Among the wights, the survivors recognize some of their friends and relatives. Samwell's heart rises as he spots Edd with blue eyes, as well as little Lyanna Mormont. Brienne and Jaime see Tormund, also transformed. Missandei freezes and burst into tears at the sight of Grey Worm, also changed into a wight. Davos is obliged to hold her back. Sansa also screams in tears when she sees the figure of Theon Greyjoy, animated as a living corpse. Sansa falls to her knees and Tyrion tries to comfort her by hugging her and forcing her not to look. The silence falls as a gray dawn rises on this battle now over and lost for the living. From the top of Drogon, Daenerys also contemplates the disaster and the feeling of defeat invades her. Her gaze is on the victorious and impassive Night King, who, as if having felt it, raises his blue eyes towards her, and seems to show a semblance of a macabre smile. Daenerys grits her teeth and continues to keep her dragon out of reach, and moves away with the ships towards Dragonstone, under the thousands of looks of the dead.

END of Episode 3

[ecotone99]

[FN] Rising Shadow - A SpellForce Short Story

For a move visually pleasing version, visit: https://www.deviantart.com/wormic/art/Rising-Shadow-A-SpellForce-Short-Story-793074356

“Under no circumstances!” Craig Un'Shallach shouted, stretched out his arm and pointed toward the obsidian-steel gate leading across the dark-grey bridge mounting the surrounding swamps.

“By Nor, you will regret this! You and your treacherous heritage! You cannot stop Sorvina and her shadows, sooner or later, Dragh’Lur will perish by their blades!” – As he said that, the messenger turned away and pulled a dark hood over his head.

While the gates closed behind him, the masses dispersed from the main square atop the sinister bulwark. The ones who remained were Craig, his advisor, Lachar, and his daughter, Nightsong. Their conversation continued hastily: “What are we to do? We cannot ignore them any longer?” – Lachar argued.

“I am well aware, but we are still too weak to hunt them down” – Craig explained – “Our brothers from Shal Dun will not support us in this battle, and Nazshar’s recent uprising crippled our ranks. May Nor damn him at the River of Souls… We need more time…”

“If Dragh’Lur falls, so does Shal, and then it's only a matter of time… The Shadows will cover all and none will be able to stop them. The orcs are scattered, the trolls dull and the light worshipers… they are a joke not even worth my tongue.”

“Do not underestimate the fighting spirit of the light worshipers, Lachar.” Craig replied and added “Although they are out brethren, we can fight Sorvina and her supporters, but it will be hard to deal with the Shadows themselves…” He started thinking out loud “I once knew someone who had it in her possession…”

Nightsong barged into the conversation “The Phoenix Bearer?”

“Yes, and her Shadow Ring, but out paths split after our last meeting in Empyria, I am unaware of her whereabouts… or whether or not she is still alive.”

“Should we search for her? I am ready to depa…” Nightsong got quickly interrupted by her father. “No, we need you here, I will send a search party for her, the three of us have to prepare for the inevitable. Lachar!”

“Yes, Dracon?”

“Send out a search party, and call for our generals, we have to prepare Dragh'Lur for what's to come, post-haste.

Lachar nodded his head in agreement and rushed through the portal to Shal to assemble the Norcaine forces. Craig and Nightsong were left standing atop the impregnable fortress, each engulfed in their own thoughts.

Silence permeated the thick fog.

Dragh’Lur was widely famous - or infamous, depending on who was asked - for its ability to repel all and any attackers headed its way. What the Bulwark was for the Clan, Dragh Lur was for the Norcaine, although arguably even more malevolent. Rumours have it that the fortress was built not only on-top of the corpses of their enemies, but also some of their own kin. Many would argue that the cruelty of the dark elves far outmatched the other races, but no outsider knows with certainty what is happening behind their metal towers and walls – no outsider dares to investigate further.

Of course, not all the Norcaine fell under such suspicions, Craig and his daughter, Nightsong, were among those, choosing to embrace the other races on Eo, rather than eschew them. In a secluded society such as their own, this wasn’t something their brethren were particularly fond of, but many have learned to respect – and in some instances, fear – the name Craig Un’Shallach. After all, he showed that he possessed to courage to go as far as to confront a mage of the Circle, not once, but twice – a feat no Norcaine on record could boast with.

Moreover, his past influenced his present, or rather, his daughters. The women of the Norcaine were a mystery in and of itself. Not even tasked with simple manual labour – the dark elves use Skergs for that – they were essentially relegated to a life of serving as tools for the Norcaine to propagate. A shame as well, as Dark Elven women were much stronger than their male counterparts, perhaps not in terms of sheer physical strength, but they all had innate talent for the dark arts – Black Magic. Thus, they were forbidden by their own people to practice such crafts – perhaps out of fear.

Notwithstanding such rules, there were Norcaine in the past who recognised this power and wished to expand on it, rather than keep it locked in secret. Nazshar was one of them. Having realised the potential in his wife, Sorvina, he strived to use that power, harness it and dominate over their race. And he would have succeeded were it not for Craig who, during a civil war, decisively put an end to his schemes. But the kill that ended one might be about to start another. After her husband was killed and she got captured, Sorvina was given a choice – the sword or the poison? – she chose the poison and prolonged her life, although only possible through her immense will and accompanied by great suffering.

Her burning rage refuses to let her die.

Ever since then, she seeks revenge for what they had done to her – for what they had done to her husband. And this hatred had also driven her to engage in a pact with the Shadows – dark beings from a foreign dimension – enemies of all life. She forced the shadows to submit to her terms by acquiring the Black Mirror and is now using it to manipulate their actions as she sees fit.

A part of the Norcaine had already been influenced by the Shadows, turning their hair white and eyes pale. Not even Nightsong was spared of their horror, however, she managed put a halt to the transformation before it reached its end. Now, Sorvina and her Pact march towards Dragh’Lur, poised to claim back what she believes was wrongfully taken from her. Behind her, the forces of the Norcaine and in their shadow – death.

Turmoil was slowly rising.

A few days had passed since the meeting atop Dragh’Lur. An ever-persisting fog was still encompassing the surrounding lands, the tension began to fester.

Craig and Nightsong spent their days training, sparing – but also talking. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hide the gloomy and worried look written all over her face. It was very unlike her. Ever since she was a child, her father raised her to stand up for herself, to not submit to the regulations of their people just because she is a woman – a connection to Sorvina she hated to have, but a similarity, nonetheless.

She was still young, but no stranger to distant travels and battles. And even though she may look elegant, she was able to give most Norcaine men a good run for their money when it came to duels – a fact she had proven many times in the past. And yet, something about the upcoming battled was inexplicably intimidating to her. She wasn’t afraid of the fight, or afraid to give her life for the well being of her people, but she couldn’t shake this eerie feeling surrounding her on her every move. She took out a small notebook and started writing in it, making sure none of her brethren standing close to her were able to decipher what.

As she remained immersed in her writing, a white light shone behind her, revealing Lachar walking through it as it started to diminish. He paid little attention to her, scurrying past and heading straight to Craig. Nightsong was able to feel that something was off. As she approached the pair, now already well deep into their conversation, she stopped. Something told her that she should interrupt, but her curiosity got the better of her, and while pretending to be occupied with other tasks, she eavesdropped on them.

“So, the Archons refuse to lend their aid?” were the first words she heard, spoken by her father.

Her eyes widened and she clenched her fists.

Among the Norcaine, it was known that Archons and Dracon don’t share the best relations, even going so far as to spark minor conflicts in the past on account of that, but never could she have imagined them sitting idle in a situation like this. Could Sorvina have been behind this? Could she have already corrupted some of their leaders to aid her in her mission of vengeance? There was no way to be certain, but it seemed plausible to her, even to the point of heading to Shal herself to confront them. But despite the urge to openly show her frustration, she remained level-headed and continued to listen in.

“What happens now?” Lachar asked, exhibiting a slight tension in his voice.

Craig remained surprisingly calm, as if he had expected such a situation to occur.

“Now, we get ready for war!” He announced loud enough for the majority of the troops surrounding the upper echelons to hear it loud and clear. His voice rang out with spirit and courage, prompting everyone to take notice of what was about to be said.

As soon as he had the attention of his troops, he started giving out precise and rigorous orders; “Man the walls! Position the Blade Dancers in-front of the main gate!” – the sound of his voice was the sole one filling the air, everyone was following them without question.

As the preparations were nearing their end, Nightsong decided to walk up to him.

His thoughts were poised on the battle that he felt was about to commence. His gaze was directed onto the shadow rising from the swamps. Nightsong turned and tried making something out in the distance, but her eyes were met by a thick wall of impenetrable gloom. “This won’t be an easy fight.” Nightsong proclaimed and continued. “I’ve heard what Lachar told you about the Archons… weaklings, all of them. May Nor’s wrath fall upon them and d…” Her apparent monologue got interrupted by Craig’s hand being placed on her shoulder.

“It won’t be easy.” He confirmed her earlier statement and took a few deep breaths.

“Nightsong, you have to escape.”

As soon as she heard those words she twitched, pushed his hand away from his shoulder and turned her whole body towards him. “What?! Out of the question!” Her face started filling with anger towards her father for demanding such actions.

As she continued assaulting him with words, he answered by raising his voice enough to let her know he’s serious, but not to alarm any others.

“Daughter, let me explain first before throwing such tantrums.” He let out a deep sign and continued. “This is a fight we cannot win alone. The shadows have already infiltrated the lower levels of Dragh’Lur… it’s only a time until they reach us.”

She couldn’t believe what he was saying, her face took on a petrified look and cold sweat started running down her back. She continued listening.

“The rest of the men and I are going to buy you time. You must sneak out of the fortress during the commotion and reach the portal to the Iron Fields. Seek the help of the Shaikan there and reach King Ulf in Sevenkeeps. The might of the Norcaine alone won’t be enough to drive away the Shadows.”

She couldn’t utter a word, but so many questions were racing through her mind. King Ulf? Seek help from Light worshipers? How could they achieve what the Norcaine failed to?

Craig was quick to notice the unrest of her expression and went ahead to reassure her.

“Do not worry, have faith in me and in Nor. The fighters of the Light are fiercer and bolder than the Norcaine give them credit for.” As he father’s words were clearing away her doubts, she was finally able to break out of her trance and ask a question.

“How will they trust me, a dark elf? If the shadows don’t cut me down before I reach the portal, the Light worshipers surely will!”

Craig reached around his neck and took off the silver necklace in the shape of a silver spider –a Symbol of their god Nor. He held it in front of Nightsong as she looked at it with great curiosity.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked her.

“The sigil of the Norcane, of course. But why are you showing me this?”

“This sigil has been passed down from Dracon to Dracon and serves to distinguish the rightful leaders of the Norcaine. When the time comes, I will give it to you. It should suffice as proof for your word.”

She continued to admire the shaped piece of silver until Craig secured it back on himself. “It’s night time, they will be here shortly. We have to get ready.”

Nightsong nodded and rushed to grab her gear. At the same time, Lachar joined Craig, both staring into the distance as the fog began to disperse.

“So, this is the end.” Lachar proclaimed, albeit a bit hesitantly.

Craig simply shook his head and corrected him. “No, this is only the beginning.”

As the fog became thinner and thinner, flames, began risin on the horizon. Lachar rushed to the main gates to support their defence there while Craig remained waiting, expecting Nightsong to return at any moment.

As the flames were moving closer and closer, the warriors of the Norcaine steadfastly stood their ground. However, as the fog disappeared completely, and the enemy troops came within reach, they were shocked by image they saw. The first rows of Sorvina’s forces weren’t dark elven warriors, there were women – molded by Sorvina into powerful sorceresses. The sight of this alone left most petrified. “Women in our ranks?” were just some of the words they began to murmur into their chins.

Through their history, women had never joined their armies in their conquest – not until Sorvina managed to accomplish that goal. Nightsong returned to her fathers side a few moments earlier and remained envious upon witnessing this sight. Sorvina managed to do what she tried achieving her whole life. But it wasn’t the time to let her emotions take over – it had begun.

The enemy forces stopped right in front of their walls and without any warning, they started crashing into them. Within moments the gates had been broken down and the slaughter began.

As their forces started storming the lower levels of Dragh’Lur, the shadows started coming out of their hiding places in the deep cracks inside the barriers. They ambushed the resisting dark elves, stabbing them in the back with their cold blades, running through them and crushing their ranks. I wasn’t long until they started creeping up towards the top, together with the rest of Sorvina’s troops. At the uppermost lever, Craig and Nightsong, together with their bodyguard, were already engaged in battle with stragglers that managed to break through their defences. The sound of clashing blades was filling the air. The ground underneath them started filling with blood, but they managed to resist the first waves.

In a short moment of peace, Craig turned to his daughter and, without saying a word, pushed his sigil in her hand. As she took it, he turned again and rushed to the edge of a platform, jumping down to support his troops and Lachar still fighting underneath them. She knew what she had to do. As soon as she threw one last look at the burning and death-soaked battlefield, she ran. She ran through a hidden path down the side of the fort and found herself surrounded by tall stone walls. Now, there was no going back.

As she continued dashing through the narrow corridors of the nearby hills, a loud scream pierced his ears – she knew what it meant. Slowing down once again rethink her father’s decision to send her away, she heard a loud screech penetrating the air above her, prompting her to lose her balance and trip on nearby tree-roots emerging out of the ground. As she found herself back on her feet, she noticed a bag with her personal belonging had fallen off of her, but she had no time to go back and retrieve it.

“I have to keep moving…” she told herself and continued trailing the path leading to the Iron Fields.

As the group of Sorvina’s mercenaries reached the place where she had tripped earlier, the were quick to notice the bag on the ground, but instead of picking it up, they merely trampled it under their feet, damaging and revealing its contents.

Among them was the book she had written in earlier that day – now almost completely ruined, laying open on a single page still legible, which read: “We were warriors. We were fighting for our freedom and the dignity of our people. We have lost… I am Nightsong. I will tell you about the last days of our greatest warrior. Craig Un’Shallach – my father…”

THE END

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