#and i need to set up the whelping area….. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

llaberration · 2 months

Text

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 18

Evening had formed above Gaelee by the time Fez arrived at the centre of the dead volcano, turning the sky purples and oranges over the glittering dome of magic. A massive fire had been lit on the ground in the centre of the crater, forming a a huge fire pit, over which appeared to be roasting some kind of large sea creature, not quite a fish, not quite a crustacean, something with a little of both, and tentacles in excess of either.

Dragons of all shapes and sizes sat in groups around many smaller fires, talking, laughing, showing off their magic. Set apart from them were slightly more normal sized tables and benches around another fire, where smaller, assorted creatures seemed to be. As Fez flew him down, Coyne could spot six main colours of dragon, though the spectrum of each 'colour' seemed so vast that it would be almost impossible to determine one from another. The six huge dragons, each easily double the size of Windred, still occupied the large plateau of the council area, but now they looked relaxed, less formal, and he had to assume that at this time, they weren't taking proper council appointment, and were merely enjoying their evening.

Fez circled down and eventually landed beside a fire a little ways out from the others, where a familiar green dragon sat patiently waiting for him. “Fez you made it!” called Ditmar, standing up to greet his friend. Coyne was gently dropped and the two dragons pounced at each other, circling and snapping their jaws at each other's necks and faces, some kind of greeting Coyne was glad not to be a part of. He was well enough used to Fez's jaws flying at him, but another dragon's might just put him on edge.

“Indeed, but I must go and fetch my other assistants, they can't fly, would you mind watching Coyne a moment while I do so?” asked Fez, once they were done prancing.

“No you go ahead,” confirmed Ditmar, smiling as he sat down again.

Coyne, a bit uncertain as Fez took off and left him, looked slowly around.

From the sky, the dragons had not looked so large, but now he was on the ground among them, they certainly felt a lot more awing. Being careful not to stare, he took in the sights of the huge creatures as they laughed and talked among themselves.

“It's something, isn't it?”

“Hm?” Coyne looked up at Ditmar.

“The gathering. You only ever see this many dragons in one place here. There is nowhere else in the world that they come together in these numbers.”

“Before I met Fez... I had only seen dragons at a distance. Flying up in the sky, lurking in distant caves or woods... I stayed well enough away from them,” said Coyne, “They're much more awing close up.”

Ditmar chuckled, “Well, as a dragon I take that to be a compliment.”

Coyne managed a smile, “This is all very new to me... I've not been around anyone much for a long time, let alone dragons, so forgive me if I make any etiquette mistakes, I have lost many of the social skills I once had.”

“I quite understand, don't worry. The only ones you really need concern yourself about etiquette with are the council. The rest of us are far more acclimated to a more casual way of living now. Classless whelps and all that.”

“Yeah they're something else again,” said Coyne, indulging himself a brief glance at their plateau, “They're so grand...”

“Each one the eldest of their kind. Or at least the eldest willing to sit on the council,” said Ditmar, “If something happens to one of them, the next eldest of their breed normally takes their place but there are exceptions.”

“Do... dragons get old? Or do they only grow larger?”

“It is... more complicated than that.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to assume...”

“No, no, it's alright... I am thinking how best to word it. Dragons die of unnatural causes all the time, just like humans. But they do not die of ageing like humans. When a dragon grows as ancient and well informed as the council elders, they learn what is known as the Ingktaka, or final spell. A great mystery to the rest of us. The final spell grants them the power to rebirth themselves and come back as a dragon of any colour or kind except that which they just were. When they are ready to do this, they get to hatch and live all over again,”

“Ohh I see,” said Coyne, a little in awe of this. “And I know there are six core 'types' the humans call them 'Black, Red, Green, Blue, Brown and Gold. Is that right?”

“The humans have a strange naming convention but yes, ultimately. We have subtly different names for them in our tongue. To translate them directly for you into Yfirian, what is a black dragon to humans is a Cave dragon to us. Respectively the others would then go Magma, Mire, Sea, Ground and Sky.”

“Yeah I have heard Fez use those. Can I ask what the difference is with each type?”

“I suppose, who better to ask than the scrollmaster,”

“I'm sorry, am I asking too many questions?”

“No,” the green dragon chuckled, “not at all. I merely like to tease. Dragon 'types' are a genetic distinction. There are no hybrids, as two dragons of different types are genetically incompatible. As such, there are subtle differences between each. This is defined by the environment they are designed to live in. Magmas for example, tend to be very hot blooded, with very thermal resistant claws and scales. Ground, or 'Brown' dragons have three broad, flat toes on their front and back feet instead of the more regular five, and smaller wings. They're built for burrowing. Sea dragons have webs between all of their toes and their wings and tails are muscled differently because they are used for swimming. There are a vast array more differences, but I won't bore you with them all. But basically, in human terms, the differences between the breeds are their natural environment. The Magma dragons are resistant to great heat because they tend to live in deserts and volcanic areas. Sea dragons, obviously, are water dwellers. Ground dragons like stone and firm earth, so they tend to go for mountains and woods.”

“Those are self explanatory... but the others are more of a mystery to me.”

“Mire dragons, like myself, are what humans would probably consider the most dangerous. We are venomous, and live in places that damp tends to thrive like swamps, ruins, algal bloom infested coastline.” He lowered his head slightly and raised his lip with a long golden claw so that Coyne could see an intimidating pair of hooked fangs nestled slightly inside the upper front line of his normal dragon teeth.

“I see... isn't that a somewhat limited environment?”

“It is. That is why there are not a vast amount of us.”

“Oh... I'm sorry,”

“Don't be, we are an antisocial breed at the best of times. I am unusual in that I like working in this place where there are always other dragons.”

“Well, Fez certainly seems glad you're here,” Coyne cast an eye around and he did notice that there were actually many less mire dragons than the reds, browns, black and blue... but less still of the gold coloured bodies. Interesting.

Ditmar chuckled quietly, nodding. “It is nice to see him again. Anyhow, to return to my explanation. Black dragons like Fez are the most gifted with magic, they tend to inhabit mountains, canyons and areas with a good many ores and metals to be found and extracted from the rock, as you have seen, they can armour plate their scales with it to great effect.”

“So... what about Gold, or Sky dragons? Those are the ones I know the least about... in fact...” he looked around, “Even now... I only count one... and that's the elder... maybe two others if I'm not misjudging...” The gold dragon elder sat peacefully to the side of the others, occasionally nodding to something one of their companions said. They were resplendent in their quiet dignity. Mostly covered in shimmering golden scales, they had an opalescent white scaled underbelly, white pearl claws and horns, and the brightest green eyes Coyne had ever seen. The build of the dragon was unusual as well, the legs were slender but comparatively short for such a long body, with perhaps the largest wing to body ratio of any of the dragons. He only noticed it when the enormous creature stretched their wings, but they were built differently to Fez's, most notably in their length relative to the body.

“Ah yes. Sky dragons are rare now. They live most of their lives in the air, landing only to nest and hunt. Their nesting grounds are growing harder to find due to humans occupying them when there is nobody to guard the land. It has devastated their numbers.”

“Ohhh,” Coyne said in wonder. “Thank you for explaining to me... I'd hate not to know at least the basics while I am here.”

Ditmar smiled, nodding, “Of course. No doubt Fez will send you off to play with the other assistants once he returns, and you would be expected to know at least the fundamentals of dragon care. Still. Fez is looking much better now, so I think you at least have begun to mastere dragon grooming.”

“That was a steep learning curve but thank you,” said Coyne with a nervous laugh.

A moment or two later, Fez returned with Alan, looking a little exasperated. “Apologies that took so long, our ancient here had been testing a new spell and we needed to catch the desk before we could head over.” He set Alan down gently, and wheeled around to fly back for Trevor.

No sooner had Alan touched down than Ditmar was leaning out towards him, his amber eyes burning with curiosity, “So you are the supposed ancient...” he said quietly, “You look so... ordina-” he cut off as Alan made eye-contact with him, and sat up abruptly. “I take that back. You do have the eyes of an ancient.”

“Why does everyone keep reacting like that,” muttered Alan, adjusting his glasses. “Even the college didn't make this big a deal out of it.”

“That is because your college possesses only the most infinitesimal knowledge, but, like all fools, believe themselves to be well informed,” replied Ditmar with a smile, reaching out to pat Alan on the head in what he seemed to think was a pacifying manner. “Please, you must let go of anything they have tried to teach you, they did not understand what you were, and that is why they did not react as we do.”

Alan blushed a bit, looking at the ground, “I know I just... it's still been a lot to take in,”

Coyne smiled, giving the man a gentle push with his shoulder, “Don't worry. It's a lot for all of us. You'll adjust.”

Alan gave him a genuine smile, “Thanks Coyne.”

A moment later, Fez returned again, gently dropping Trevor and landing beside him. “There we go,” he said, “Now you see why we travel the way we do normally. If I had to make three flights everywhere it would take forever.”

Coyne gave a little smile, thinking to himself that surely that was not the only reason. Nothing to do with Fez enjoying a full crop, or being overly protective. “Would you like us to leave you two to catch up?”

“If you would like to go and meet some of the other assistants, I believe it would be most educational for you yes. But remember what I have said so far, alright?”

“Got it,” said Coyne, “Thanks Fez.”

The three of them left the two dragons, and Coyne led them a little uncertainly towards the group of more mixed individuals. His plan was to play it safe. Don't go marching up to anyone, just go and stay near the group. He was sure some of the more confident assistants would come over to investigate the newcomers.

Once they were a reasonable distance from the others, he stopped and turned to the two mages, “I think we should just stay here for now and wait for some of them to come to us... I don't want to draw too much attention to us yet, not until we know a few of them.”

“That seems like a sensible plan,” said Alan with a nod.

“I don't like any of this...” grumbled Trevor, glancing around, “We need to be careful. I can smell so many different creatures and I only know what about half of them are, at a push,” he hushed his tone, “There's at least one werewolf here...”

Coyne nodded, “We will be careful, don't worry. If anything seems to be going wrong, we can go back to Fez. Or I can hide you.”

Trevor gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but he was visibly on edge. Perhaps because he was a druid, and closer to his self preservation instincts, he was less willing to trust a new situation like this. Coyne knew he was just trying to process an unsettling environment in his own way, and being gruff seemed to be that way. Barely two days ago the man had been wrung out of magical energy like a sponge, and he was probably still feeling a bit tender from it, so the mimic was sympathetic to his situation.

Alan shot Coyne a look, as though he was checking that he had noticed the other mage's mood, then moved to sit down with a quiet sigh, “We'll wait here then, and play it safe for tonight.”

Coyne, glad that the mage was absolutely okay with taking his approach, sat down as well, smiling, “So, how are you guys taking all of this?”

Trevor looked relieved that they had established this to be 'their spot' and he sat down, taking a deep breath. “It's been pretty bloody insane,” he gestured vaguely around them. “I mean.... ehhhhh...” he made a general exclamation at the situation.

Coyne let out a quiet laugh and nodded, “No I understand that,” he chuckled, “A few weeks ago I was scraping for coppers in the mud, wasting away, looking at the end of my life in very short order....” he shook his head, “If I didn't know better I would think this was all some kind of hallucination brought on by the stress of facing my impending demise. If it wasn't all so real I might be suspicious,”

Alan looked at him for a long moment, “Were you really that close to death?”

“Down to a very limited number of coins left,” he confirmed.

“What happens when you run out? Do you just die?”

“Honestly I don't know. It has never happened, some instinct tells me it's bad though, and probably fatal. Still, with as much gold as Fez has been using me to hold onto, I've got all the time in the world now,” he grinned, “I know this is all nuts for you guys but... you have to admit it's pretty incredible.”

“It is that,” admitted Alan, “It'll be easier once we have slept on it I think. Everything takes more processing when you haven't had time to think on it,”

Coyne grinned, nodding. “Well, don't look now, but I think things are about to get weirder.”

“Huh?”

It hadn't taken long for the other apprentices to notice the newcomers settled outside their group. Heads had started to turn their way, and there had been a few hushed tones before a strange figure had begun walking over towards them. Hands shoved in the pockets of his overly straight black trousers, a humanoid approached them casually. His footsteps barely made a sound on the smooth ground as he walked, even though his polished shoes did not look designed for sneaking. In the flickering light of the fire, he looked like something out of a nightmare. A shock of red hair flopped across his face from above, more like a mane than a fringe, framed between two small, upright ears on the top of his head. The term 'face' was to be used loosely here, as the creature in fact did not have a face. A worn, dried looking skull of some canine breed, was what formed the main features of his face. Coyne did not estimate it to be a mask either, because there were no eyes behind the empty sockets. Instead, two pinpoints of red light shone out of the skull's eyeholes. Below the skull, where the neck connected, Coyne could see bright blue, ever so slightly translucent flesh, a strange tone indeed. He had never seen or heard of a creature like this before, but it was not moving threateningly.

“Hello,” the figure stopped beside the little group, his red dots of eyes swivelling from one to the next. As he did this, the skull face did not move. It remained still, as though the roving eyes were the only part that needed to move to take them in. He spoke in a voice so low and rich that Coyne reckoned it did not come from remotely human lips but seemed to vibrate through the air and echo from the bones. The skull was not a mask. It was his actual face. “I see you have put yourself outside the other apprentices. Why is this?” as he spoke, a kind of vapour seemed to pour from the jaws of the skull in curling little puffs, like exhaling on a cold morning, but it was neither cold, nor morning... the air was humid and warm, making this altogether more strange.

Coyne, seeing Alan and Trevor were both stunned into silence by this newcomer, stood up out of politeness. “We're new, and we didn't want to interrupt,” he said, giving a polite nod.

The creature cocked his head like a curious dog, listening, his gaze travelling slowly over Coyne with tangible interest. “New you say. Just arrived first time?”

Coyne nodded a confirmation. “We're still learning the etiquette.”

The creature gave a chuckle, and the sound seemed to echo through his skull strangely, as though the sound came from multiple points rather than one fixed mouth. “I see you have been caught up in thinking everything is etiquette here. Understandable. The dragons can make you feel that way. Do not worry, the assistants are less formal about things. Most of us will not bite.”

“Well I'm glad to hear that,” replied Coyne, “We weren't sure the best way to introduce ourselves.”

“Well then I shall begin for you,” said the creature with a nod of his head. “My name is Syd, chief assistant to Daelinitrix, of the council.”

Coyne was a little taken aback to discover that the council members even had assistants, but after a half-second of processing it, he realised it was actually kind of dumb that it surprised him. Of course they did. They were bigger and busier than any dragon, it made sense that they had assistants. “Coyne,” he said, “Assistant to Mylfeziah,” he nudged Alan with his knee, and the mage snapped out of his shock at the talking skull creature, standing up so quickly that he almost fell over once again, dragging Trevor up with him.

“Alan,” he said, “Also assistant to Mylfeziah,” as he spoke, Syd's face turned to fix him with its lidless stare, only the head and neck moving, the body remaining unnervingly static.

“Aahaaa...” said the creature, “I have heard about you... whispers and rumours spreading around the campfire like a plague among men...”

Alan took a tiny step back, feeling as though the cold stare was drilling into him, “I... I don't know why...”

“How could the dragons not talk about the arrival of an ancient?” Cooed the deep voice.

Coyne could have sworn that the skull grinned a little wider as the creature spoke, and as he saw Alan stumbling on his words. He stepped in, putting himself between Alan and the creature's gaze to draw those piercing red eyes. “I'm sorry, he's new to all of this. He only just found out he's an ancient so we're all still learning about it.”

The skull gave a single nod, then turned to Trevor, “And you?”

“Trevor, druid. Also Mylfeziah's,” said Trevor, with a little twinge of his old sarcasm again. His eyes were a bit narrowed too, as though he was trying to get some kind of reading on this new creature.

“Goodness me. Mylfeziah has always had a reputation for travelling alone, and now he turns up with all three of you, how very intriguing...” said Syd, his gaze travelling slowly over each one of them once more before he gestured towards the fire at the centre of the assistant group. “Come. Join us and introduce yourselves. We have spit-roasted Kheascean, and some fairly decent mead.”

Coyne, feeling as though they had just been judged worthy, gave a nod, looking at the others to check that they were alright with joining a larger group, and seeing them both give a small confirmation, smiled at Syd, “Lead the way,” he said in a pleasant, polite tone.

Coyne followed as the strange being lead them through the main gathering of assistants, to where an enormous, at least seven foot tall, dark haired man in fine silver and black robes was carving what looked like a roasted tentacle from the creature the dragons were spit roasting. “Hungry?” asked Syd gesturing, “It's quite good.”

“What... is it?” asked Trevor.

“We call them Kheascean. It's a species from the deep ocean. They live by assimilating the parts of other species by just kind of... stealing them. Sticks the parts to itself and carries on happily, gradually getting bigger and scarier as it goes. It's actually quite tasty.”

Alan and Trevor looked at each other with a moment of uncertainty, they were hungry for a proper meal but... this was definitely a bit outside their cuisine experience.

“Safe for humans to eat?” asked Coyne, spotting their look.

“Once it is well roasted, of course,” replied Syd.

“Well then... we should probably have some. Mylfeziah is still learning basic human care, and food has been a little short so...” Alan tried to put on a brave face, though he was visibly a little uncertain.

“Ah yes,” said Syd, giving a strange chuckle again, “Dragons are a little like that at first. Don't worry, they learn fast,” he took several metal plates from the top of a stack beside the meat and offered them to the newcomers. Alan and Trevor both took one, but Coyne held up his hands, “not for me, thank you,” he said, shaking his head.

Syd shrugged, returned one plate to the pile and gestured to the pile of already carved meat beside the large man. “As you wish,”

Alan sidled up to the stack of food, cautiously trying to see if he was supposed to help himself or ask, looking nervous as the large man paused in his carving and gave him a look over.

“It's okay Gregorio,” said Syd, “They're new but they're with us.”

The huge man's face broke into a smile, showing off a set of white, exceptionally sharp teeth as he slapped a large hunk of still steaming meat onto Alan's plate.

“Gregorio doesn't talk a lot unless he has to,” said Syd quietly to Coyne, as Trevor was also supplied with meat. “Werewolves, a funny lot, prefer actions to words and all that.”

Both mages thanked the large man and Syd led them to a table a short ways from the main fire, sitting down and gesturing the others to do the same. As Coyne sat, he glanced around at the occupants of the table that they were joining. There was Syd of course, along with several others, a strange assortment of individuals.

At the far end, a little ways from everyone, staring blankly into space, his plate of cooked fish apparently forgotten sat an extremely thin, worn looking figure, his face drawn and tired looking, but otherwise human as far as Coyne could see. He had slightly curly, pale blonde hair and grey blue eyes that just looked exhausted as they bored into the table.

A tall silent figure sat beside Syd, hooded robe drawn up over their head and face so Coyne could tell nothing about them. He could just make out the outline of a bony, almost skeletal snout though, covered in the thinnest layer of grey skin.

Along a little further was what looked, at least to Coyne's untrained eye, like a sock puppet, on an arm, with nothing else visible. It sat sedately at the table looking at them with its obviously sewn-on button eyes that didn't even match. The mimic wanted to lean down and look under the table to investigate if there was an owner but he suspected that he would either find something he did not want to see lurking down there, or worse, he would find that the puppet was not in fact attached to anything.

Also down the table on the same side sat an extremely pale being dressed in a fine, dark suit, quietly sipping something from a goblet that Coyne suspected was not mead. This, Coyne was fairly confident, was a vampire. The palor and the cold look to the dark eyes were distinct, and he had crossed paths with such creatures before. They were civil, if anything they were a bit stuck up, and rarely played well with others. This one looked friendly enough though, and spared him a polite nod of greering.

Finally, skittering about on the tabletop were two small, dragon-like creatures. Coyne was instantly aware that they were not normal or young dragons. About a foot long, their bodies were built broader and flatter, more like the tiny lizards one saw around Yfiria in summer. They had two additional pairs of legs beside the standard four and instead of the majestic, folding wings of a normal dragon, they had colourful little gossamer wings... somewhere between butterfly and dragonfly, which had a beautiful, stained-glass look to them. They also did not look as intelligent as dragons.

Trevor and Alan looked around at this motley crew and quickly turned their attention to their food, staring into their plates to avoid confrontation.

Syd gave them a moment to take in the group before leaning forwards, knitting his fingers and resting the chin of his skull on them, his hollow eyes looking at Coyne. “So. What are you?”

Coyne blinked, “Uh...”

“You don't eat. You have the energy of a man but... far greater and there is something else, something I can't quite put my finger on. At first I thought maybe some kind of exotic were breed but... you would have leapt at the chance for food if that were the case. So. Tell me. What am I missing? I love these guessing games but you have me mystified.”

“Well, uh, it's kind of a long story,” said Coyne, rubbing the back of his head. “As of now I am what they're calling a mimic-hybrid.”

“Interesting...” said Syd, “And you don't eat?”

“Not food,”

“Interesting...”

“And you? If it isn't wrong of me to ask? What are you?”

Syd chuckled, and once again, Coyne was almost certain the skull grinned a little wider. “I am. Like you. A long story. A unique set of circumstances,”

“I see,” Coyne had to admit he was curious but did not want to pry.

“For the rest of our friends here, we have Silky and Tindle,” he pointed at the two dragon-like lizards playing on the table. As their names were said, both paused, looked at Coyne, bowed their heads in greeting, then went back to chasing one another. “They're known as Ersins. Tiny cousins of dragons,” he paused as he watched Silky pause to lick at a stain on the table, “Distant cousins. They are assistants to Windred.” He pointed down the table at the vampire, “Thady, Earl of Dunmaw. It is unusual for a dragon to have a vampire as an assistant but their longevity, ability to pass as human and propensity for manners makes them useful in their own way.” The vampire, hearing the introduction, gave a stoic nod to Coyne and the two mages.

“Compton,” Syd gestured to the sock puppet. “Is an Abernangle. A semi-parasitic species that chooses a host based on replacing a missing piece of them. They sometimes spend their entire lives in their infant form waiting to find someone or something that is missing a limb or organ to replace. Unfortunately, after the host passes on from natural causes, they're still stuck in that form for the rest of their lives.”

“So he's...”

“Just an arm, yes.”

“Can he talk?”

“Yes. He can talk, hear, smell and taste. He uses a kind of thermal sensing to see, so he can do that too. When they attach to a host, they basically operate exactly as the original limb or organ did, they imitate it perfectly after a period of transitional change. All they ask in return is to be fed once in a while.”

“It's a pretty good deal for someone missing an arm,” said Compton, clearly aware he was being talked about. The voice came from somewhere under the hand, around the palm so Coyne had to assume there was a mouth in there somewhere. “They get their arm back and all they have to do is keep me fed and occasionally make idle conversation.”

“And... if I might ask... why the sock-puppet getup?”

“Why not?” asked the creature with a dry chuckle. “It amuses my dragon no end.”

Coyne had to concede that this was as good a reason as he could have expected, and it had certainly given Trevor and Alan pause for thought as they both looked unsettled by the thing. “How is the... Kheascean...” he asked them conversationally.

“It's not bad actually,” said Alan, thoughtfully. “It takes some time to chew but... the flavour isn't the worst thing by any means.”

Coyne was relieved about this, glad that the humans were at least getting a decent meal. “Good, and you Trevor?”

“It's actually quite tasty,” confirmed the druid, holding up a chunk of the meat, “I was worried about the whole... tentacle thing but it's good.”

Coyne nodded approvingly at this and looked back to Syd, “And the others?”

“Millicent,” said Syd, gesturing to the tall, dark clad figure, “Doesn't talk much, like Gregorio, don't worry about it, and down at the end there is Iewan. He's... different.”

“Different?”

Syd nodded, lowering his voice a little, “He's a new assistant to Oridingeon, the Sea dragon elder. Quite new, but... from another time and place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, in limited circumstances, dragons can... go places we can't. Pass through barriers we don't even know of. Iewan is from the other side of one of those.”

“Okay... so what is he?”

“He's a human. But. There's something else with him.”

“How do you mean?”

“He tells the story best honestly. He uses words I do not know. You should talk to him, he's actually quite friendly.”

“He looks sad,” said Coyne quietly.

“Well, he has that about him. We try to involve him where possible, but he struggles with our world being new to him. He might get along better with your mages there, since they're at least human.”

Coyne nodded with a small smile, “We'll try that once their confidence is built up a little. It's been a long day for them,”

Syd gave a little chuckle, “The first Quat-del-nae is the hardest. Once you have seen a gathering like this once, nothing will ever seem exotic to you again.”

They sat quietly for a time, the two mages finished their portions of Kheascean, and talked quietly between themselves. The two small Ersins were quick to invade the vacated plates and clear them of scraps.

As Coyne watched, dragons and assistants alike finished up their food and headed out, back to their caves. The enormous ancient dragons seemed to resume council, and he had to draw the conclusion that this place operated on its own timescale. He reckoned it was about 4am now, give or take a few hours, and they had just had their equivalent of 'dinner' and now the council was doing a last few appointments before rest.

The two mages were visibly flagging, despite all of the rest they had had on the way here, the two humans had been through so much that they were clearly struggling a bit. Coyne felt bad, because he could see that Fez and Ditmar were still talking animatedly at their fire, and he did not want to disturb that... but Trevor in particular seemed tired. Coyne was listening politely to Syd tell stories about council meetings in the past, and though he was interested, he did notice the druid trying to catch his eye. He couldn't really do much to respond to it though, as Syd was in the middle of animatedly telling him about a time when an exceptionally large and ugly Kheascean had actually tried to climb up the side of the island to get at the creatures inside, and Coyne was too polite to ask him for a pause. Clearly the delay was longer than the druid was willing to wait, as a moment later, Coyne made an exclamation of surprise as he felt something crawling up him. For a moment he was terrified to think that it was Compton playing some kind of prank, but a glance discovered a slender little stoat was climbing up his body. “Trevor?” he asked in surprise, as he spotted the druid was no longer visible. The stoat nodded and Coyne smiled apologetically at Syd, “Sorry, can you excuse us for a moment,” he said politely, and gently took hold of Trevor, walking out towards the darkness at the edge of the group and stopping. “I know that you're tired but you scared the life out of me!” he said, looking accusingly at the creature.

Trevor, apparently unconcerned with this, yawned a squeaky little noise at him.

“I know you're tired,” said Coyne, “But Fez is clearly still talking with Ditmar so...”

The stoat suddenly leaned forwards and headbutted him in the mouth.

“Oh...” Coyne blinked as he realised that the Druid wanted to go to bed regardless... and it was true, they didn't need to go back to the room for that. “But you're a stoat, and we only have a few hours before dawn when I will need to bring you out anyway...”

“That's okay, he can only stay as a stoat for a few hours,” said Alan, smiling as he approached them.

“You too?” asked Coyne.

Alan nodded, “It's been a long week... I'm not as tired as Trevor but... tired.”

Coyne sighed a little, “What happens when he runs out of 'stoat' time?”

“He's always described it as like 'having arthritis in your entire body' if you stay in one shape too long that's not yours. But he won't just spontaneously turn into his human form again if that's what you're concerned about.”

Coyne sighed a bit, giving the stoat a severe look. “I would rather not eat you like that,”

Trevor yawned at him again, twisting in the mimic's hands to curl up, looking up at him with sad, dark eyes.

“Fine. Fine. But if you're cramped and uncomfortable don't come crying to me,” he looked at Alan, “is he always like this?”

“He gets strange when he's tired. Tends to go into one of his animal forms and act like he's drunk. Maybe letting the animal instincts take the reigns a bit? One time he got grumpy tired, turned into a horse and tried to fight Belfus. It didn't go over well.”

“Odd...” said Coyne, shaking his head, but the stoat squeaked at him, sitting up on its hind legs in his hands and putting gentle little feet on his chin.

“Can't be worse than eating Fez,” said Alan with a grin.

Coyne nodded, “I suppose you're right but... still,” he reluctantly opened his mouth, grunting as Trevor began to climb inside. The long, agile body was just a bundle of pure muscle, and wasted no time burrowing backwards. The mimic was forced to open up and swallow just to keep up with the swift movement. With an undignified, wet sound, he stumbled back a step, caught his balance, and got himself focused again, raising the stoat's wriggling body up to help it get inside. It was a little like swallowing Fez, but not as readily slippery, longer and thinner. The wiry little form possessed a wriggling strength he had not experienced before, and he made a note to ask Trevor to be more gentle in future as the powerful little body burrowed its way down inside.

As soon as the long, brushy tail slid away, he grunted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, “He is not gentle, is he?” he said, looking at Alan.

“He's... a bit of a rough soul,” said Alan, a hint of fondness in his tone. “Go easy on him. He's been walking so carefully for so long... this is the first time he's been free and he doesn't know what to do with it yet.”

Coyne's face softened and he let out a little exhale as the shape began to curl in his belly, squirming around to get himself upright and settle into a bundle. “I hope there's still space for you,” he commented to Alan, “I'm glad you're not both druids, I don't think I'd have room for two stoats...”

“In theory if I learn enough magic from Fez letting us practice I could turn into-”

“Don't. Please don't,” said Coyne, a hand on his stomach, “Single stoat occupancy. Now let's have you too... don't want to be away too long, they might think it rude.”

Alan nodded, reaching up to squeeze his earring and say the trigger word Fez had given them. As before, purple smoke consumed the man, reducing him down to a mere snack.

Coyne gently lifted him into his hands, grimacing as Trevor 'snuggled' inside, the action much stronger than he was used to. “Just keep him under control in there okay? I don't need him tying my guts in a knot.”

“Got it, thanks Coyne,” The tiny man gave the mimic's thumb a gentle squeeze, “I know this has been a lot for you too, and you're handling it as though it's not just for our sakes but...” he stumbled and lost his words, shaking his head, “just thanks.”

Coyne managed a little blush and a nod before lifting the small body to his mouth, wanting to hide the embarrassment by eating the small man.

Alan did not fight him, and after the wriggling, burrowing bundle of trouble Trevor had been, the second mage felt like almost no effort to swallow at all. He was gone in a couple of gulps, and soon lost in the bundle of weight that was Trevor's chosen form. Still, he was reassured to feel the stoat react to Alan's arrival by moving around, making space before they settled.

Coyne exhaled quietly, patting his stomach before returning to the light, finding only Syd and Iewan still at their table. The others had either gone off to bed or to their duties.

Syd smiled at his return, raising a strange hand in greeting. Blue like the skin of his neck, with black nails and only four long fingers, no thumbs. “Welcome back. Putting your mages to bed?”

Coyne nodded, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, I must return to my dragon,” said Syd with a polite nod towards the enormous shape of the Magma dragon council member. “If your dragon is not done meeting old friends, you should get to know Iewan. He's an interesting one.”

“Okay...” said Coyne, glancing at the quiet man at the end of the table. He seemed to have finished his food now but still looked vacantly haunted. Still, if everyone else was going, Coyne would have to try. He bade Syd a goodnight, or morning, and slid down the table to face the stranger, giving a small wave.

Iewan blinked, snapping out of some haze as he noticed the man before him. He looked at Coyne for a long moment, then managed a weak, but genuine smile. “New?”

Coyne nodded, “Just arrived today.”

“Pretty exciting place huh?”

“Yeah. Is it your first time too?”

“Yeah. Been... seeing a lot of firsts this year...”

“Syd says you're from... somewhere else?”

“I am,” the man gave a dry, slightly strained chuckle, as though breathing was effort for him. “Where I am from... there aren't any dragons. Or generally aren't. As far as I know, Ridgar was the first, and he brought me back here with him.”

“So you're from... another land?”

“Yes and no,” Iewan shook his head, “more like another world but... another land is a simpler way of putting it.”

“Why did Ridgar bring you here?”

“It's a really long story but... to summarise it in its purest form, I didn't fit in where I was any more, and it would have been detrimental to my world for me to stay.”

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that,”

Iewan looked a bit surprised, but pleased about this, “Thanks. Most people here just want to know what I am.”

Coyne chuckled, shrugging. “I have had a lot of that today myself,” he grinned, glad to see the man brightening into their conversation a little. “But I care more about who someone is than what they are.”

“Well, I'm glad for that. Getting my head around this place has been a lot to handle ontop of everything else.”

“I know what that's like,” said Coyne with a nod, “A few weeks ago I was in a totally different situation, really bad, really dark... now here I am, assistant to a dragon... helping look after two fairly unusual mages, a slime and a horse who is now a cat...” he let out a high laugh at how ridiculous it all was.

Iewan's face broke into a grin at the laugh as well, a warm and genuine one that lifted the shadows on his face a little and made him look a bit less drawn. “That sounds like you've had quite a time of it.”

Coyne let his laugh taper out to a chuckle, a hand quietly on his belly under the table, “You don't know the half of it.” He drew a few breaths to calm his tone, then said, in a friendly manner, “I don't mean to pry, but are you alright? You look so tired...”

Iewan nodded, “I'm alive. But I've been going through quite a time of it, both before and since Ridgar found me. Dragons aren't the best at caring for humans, he's been doing his best, and I'm adjusting but... it's been a time.”

“Yeah we made a few mistakes early on too,” said Coyne, “Forgot to feed our humans enough, that sort of thing.”

Iewan let out a long sigh, “I need a lot more food these days too... since it happened.”

“Do you... want to talk about whatever it is? Since I'm guessing that's why you were brought here.”

Iewan paused a moment, his face going through several emotions as he considered, then finally shook his head. “You know what? Not tonight. I've talked about little else for the last week since we arrived. Would you humour me and we can just... keep talking as though everything is normal?”

Coyne nodded, “Of course. Why don't you tell me about your home instead? This 'other land' of yours.”

Iewan gave a nod and a grateful smile. “Thank you. I would like that very much.”

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

<<First || Previous || Masterlist || Next>>

Only a few behind now! We'll be all caught up in no time!

#safe vore #extreme cuddling #nonfatal vore #soft vore #male vore #sfw vore

4 notes · View notes

fel-path · 1 year

Text

At last, the trap had been set.

There was to be no traffic on this road, leaving the small, seemingly unimportant bridge devoid of travelers or adventurers. There was only the shadowy, armoured figure of Varah Terok standing at the base of the structure, hands folded behind her back.

The witch was a fearsome sight, her Voidheart raiment cackling with violet arcs of pure magic, her cowled visage devoid of any discernible features save the baleful, white glow where her eyes should be, the darkness within seemingly taking the shape of a shadowy skull. Tall and poised, she merely… waited.

He was nearly here.

The sense of something wrong was felt, the hair on the back of her neck stood up as an involuntary sensation of welling fear coursed through her before it was quickly squashed. The road before her darkened visibly, the light dying as a portal of dark magic was conjured. Any animal within the area quickly hightailed it out of there as the two darkcasters stood apart from each other.

The other was a tall man, and where he was once handsome, he had been twisted with the taint of Fel. Grotesque horns protruded out of his head, reaching skyward with a ball of green fire swirling between the sharp tips. Long, white hair fell down past his shoulders, his lithe form clad in expensive finery that spoke of excess wealth and indulgence. Jewelry decorated every part of his form, and a clawed hand came up to gesture towards the masked warlock apart from him.

“You… you are not Severen. I wonder if one is friend? Or foe?” His words, flowing like rich honey, dripped with power and charisma, that elongated, forked tongue snaking out as he grinned a fanged smile.

The armoured witch scoffed loudly. “Twisted and vile, just as I remembered you before your ghastly descent into corruption. How you survived for so long will forever be lost upon me.”

The demonic human hissed a sound, this interruption a mild inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. “Impudent whelp. I will deal with your insubordination, but first. You sent the distress spell, what could possibly require my most unfortunate intervention?”

The woman barked a harsh laugh, the sound loud and grating. “You think this plea to be rescued? Hah! Severen is dead. Korlast is dead. Balagan is dead. This is a trap I have laid over decades.”

The demon snarled, growing bored the longer this drew out. Another upstart Harvest Invoker, likely, all lies no doubt. “A most desperate effort to garner power, I will flay you slowly until I grow bored of your screams. Tell me, insect, who dares stand against Az’dramin.”

A silent pulse of magic was felt as Varah dropped the spells to conceal her power, letting the demon be able to detect her magic properly as she spoke. “I am She who Remembers, the Surviving Light.” A clawed gauntlet came up to banish her helmet with but a wave, revealing those bright, corrupted eyes and scowling visage beneath.

Az’dramin took a long moment before letting out a loud, boisterous laugh. The ball of green fire that swirled between his horns pulsated with power as he struggled to contain himself. “Oh, I see it clearly now. A cleric who survived, come for the vengeance for the betrayal I laid at Grand Hamlet. Except, now you are without your Light.”

Fangs were flashed once more in a most devious smile, a step closer taken as he found himself now utterly enjoying the moment. “Disgrace. Failure. You’ve had, what? Years? Decades? A lifetime to plan out this futile gesture. Tell me whatever words you had prepared before I drain that soul like I did your sisters.”

Varah narrowed her gaze at the human-turned-demon, the man who had used to have been a patron of her holy order. A traitor to Brightwood who opened the gates to Grand Hamlet to let the Horde storm in without siege. “I do not need to say anything. I just need you to die.” From behind her back, her clawed hand produced a massive, powerful soulstone of a deep violet, swirling with Fel magic within the center.

“NO!”

With a sound like the crack of lightning and within a fraction of a second he had shifted into a realm of shadows to close the distance. Magic hissed around them as their auras were clearly visible, his own a potent host of demonic energy.

But Varah’s? In this plane, her aura was a titanic fount of pure, raw magic. Like a mountain it towered over him, burning with the righteous fire of a hundred suns, pure, undaunted hatred threatened to drown him out.

A clawed hand belonging to Varah had intercepted the magical translocation, holding him by the throat before tossing him against the wall of the bridge. This bridge, the one where the warlocks had struck down the cleric known as Indina Malvyst. The Bridge that had brought Varah Terok into the world.

The witch was immediately upon the demonic figure, assailing him with claw and spell, searing bolts of witchfire scorching flesh and finery, though her talons were blocked by a pair of daggers that materialized within his hands, being able to parry the feral, frenzied strikes with a building difficulty.

Az’dramin hissed in challenge, slipping away as he watched the witch lash out in pure wrath. Despite the decades, it was clear Varah would not go down without a fight. A blade sung out with a low, concealed strike, digging into the side of the woman’s side, punching through bravado and metal, face twisted in such terrible delight. Varah growled, driving her talons into the meat of his scaled shoulder, slicing tendons as the soulstone fell to the ground.

“You’ve already tasted the delight of Fel magic, fallen cleric. Imagine what you could do with more.. Any lover of your choice, every lust quenched, any desire fulfilled..” Az’dramin drew close enough to allow that slippery, forked tongue to drag over the witch’s cheek, lowering his guard as he willed his presence to overpower Varah’s willpower.

The witch turned to quickly sink her teeth into the fleshy tongue, tearing the appendage free in a spray of blood. The demon cried out in surprised anguish just as Varah drove her forehead into his nose, shattering it and causing another spray of tainted blood to fill the space around them.

“That you think I actively seek any power betrays your own cowardice!” A strike powered by pure shadow magic rocked Az’dramin’s face, both clawed gauntlets gripping him by the horns. With a powerful grip, she drove her knee into his face repeatedly. A symphony of wet gurgles and cracked bones filled the space as Varah began to turn that twisted visage into a bloody pulp.

“I recall EVERY virtue I stood for!”

CRUNCH.

“I remember EVERY oath I took!”

CRUNCH.

“I AM INDINA AZREI MALVYST OF THE ORDER OF BRIGHTWOOD!”

CRUNCH.

“AND WITH YOUR DEATH I FULFILL A THOUSAND VOWS OF VENGEANCE!”

One final knee strike send the demon reeling back, his face unrecognizable, pits of his skull visible as blood poled from now-empty eye sockets, fangs spilling out in shattered splinters. Incapable of speech, he crawled with a pathetic attempt to escape. Unable to utter incantations, unable to see the threat, he was utterly defenseless.

The witch held out a hand, and there was a powerful flash of Light around her. A hammer crafted from pure, golden magic was materialized, held out to Varah with several pairs of hands without bodies, though she knew her sisters were just as eager for justice to finally be met out. The weapon was a large, powerful mastercraft that mirrored the weapon that Mother Aspiel had carried as a symbol of her status. The weapon had always been meant for Indina, and now her clawed hand took the weapon from the disembodied hands, the head of it engulfed in a powerful, burning holy fire.

“BRIGHTWOOD IS FOREVER FREE OF YOUR BETRAYAL!”

With a single, powerful motion, she struck not at the demon, but at the quivering soulstone. The glass shattered with a cataclysmic explosion of dark magic, engulfing them both in a blinding light. The witch, holding the blessed hammer known as Reminiscence, was protected from the shockwave, but Az’dramin was not as fortunate. The demon evaporated, reduced to ashes within moments in a purifying flame, yet the torture he felt lasted what felt like decades.

The bridge grew quiet, and throughout Duskwood, the wailing spirits quieted, if but a moment, the entirety of the region had a breath of relief as a lingering, infested wound was finally purified.

3 notes · View notes

umbralsound-xiv · 1 year

Text

Message.

Oh, she wouldn’t be pleased when she got back, no.

But that’s what made it so fun. Boss told me to give her some orders, and we all knew she wouldn’t like to hear them. I figure she was in the mess hall, or speaking with one of weaker of us.

...But she’d come back eventually.

Vairg's patience was a selective thing. Never much to wait for anything that he could so easily have now, it was only when the payoff was particularly appealing for him that he opted to have any kind of tolerance for it. He slowly taps the toes of his metal boot a few fulms away from his chair, still hooked beneath the handle of the neighbouring door. She'd return eventually. All he had to do was wait.

And wait was a thing he did not have to do for too long. Vex soon finds her way down into the cells, her already weary features pulling into a frown as she glanced towards the captives - despising to be given this sight several times a sun. Her steps continue through the hall and into the solitary area, where she halts upon seeing Vairg stood before the door leading into her cell - the frown deepening just a touch.

"You're very late getting back to your room, Vex." Vairg's words were prying, head inclined as he peered down to her. "Long sun? You look like shit." He didn't budge an ilm from where he stood, finding some amusement in her frown.

".. So? I was back in time." Vex huffed, head rising a touch. "You don't look any fucking better." She quipped back, arms folding in front of her chest. "You're guarding the wrong door, in case you didn't realise."

Her words were air to him, unbothered for any insults regarding his appearance. "So obedient." He taunts, slowly leaning back to set himself in the way of the door as he rested on it. "I'm precisely where i need to be." His eyes narrow an ilm then, as his grin widens. "You have orders, Vex."

"Says you, who has turned into Grym's personal errand boy. Fucking ass-kisser." Vex's lion-esque tail swatted to the side as she spoke - well aware that such was not the kind of person the Viera was.. Yet if she could rile him up with it, all the better. "And absolutely no care for whatever bullshit it is. I'm going to sleep."

"Better me than the rest of these incompetent whelps. Maybe if you behaved a little better, you'd get better orders. But i doubt it." He continues to lean on the door, knowing full well Vex couldn't move him if she tried. "You're not going anywhere but where you're told, Vex. We found one of ours dead some bells ago. And lucky you, you get to go look."

"Consider, that a 'better' order for you, is absolutely not the same for me." Vex eyed him with obvious irritation, ears pinning back as a sharper exhale leaves her. "Fuck off and give that order to someone who gives a shit about it."

...I’d love to fight her one sun. Heard the things she can do.

But here’s not the place nor time. Wouldn’t want to put her out of commission without Grym’s say-so, and i reckon there’s several people who’d want a piece of her first.

"I'd do it myself, but Grym wouldn't trust you with -my- duty." He said it proudly, rocking his head almost mockingly before it rises again. "You want me to move? Make me, Vex." He stands upwards, gesturing both arms out to the side. "Oh, i forget. You -can't-." A sneer, as he takes a step forth, towards her. "You should show -some- gratitude. How often is it they let you out after dark, hm? You're an ungrateful little shit."

".. And why, the fuck, would I want that asshole to trust me?" Vex hissed. "Did you already forget that I'm not here because I fucking want to be?" She then eyes Vairg, a small flame flickering forth to curl along her jaw in growing annoyance - his latter comment only aggrovating her further. "Eat shit and fuck off, Vairg. I have -nothing- to be grateful for to you fuckers."

"And yet, here you are still." He widens his stance, to peer down to her. "A victim of your own circumstances. That's what -you- are." His index seeks to jab her in the forehead with his words. "If you'd just behave, it would be better for you. Less fun for me, though." The smirk widens, as he considers, stepping aside from her door. "Go on. Go rest. I'm sure when Grym has finished being so... Disappointed... He can find one of your friends to do it, eh?"

"Because you assholes keep bringing me back whenever I try to fucking leave." The jab in her forehead makes her hands ball into fists, as if she had every intention to swing them for the Viera. "You know what would be even better for me? If you fuckwits never grabbed me in the first place." She snarled, tail whacking irritably to the side. "I don't fucking have friends." Despite her words, she did not move for the door - even when Vairg had moved away from it.

"Sure you don't." Vairg moves away only a step, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Then you won't mind if i drag them kicking and screaming to do what you won't, hm?"

Vex twitched, frown deepening. A prolonged silence lingered, before a slow sigh left her. ".. What exactly does he expect me to find?"

...It’s been a successful ploy, recently. Why enact punishment on someone who expects it, when it’s just so much more effective against someone they care about?

...More fun, too. At least for a bit. They don’t usually tend to fight back, not expecting it, and all that. But the panic in their eyes usually makes up for it.

"Don't know. That's your problem. And it will continue to be your problem for some suns yet, because Grym wants you to keep looking, for anyone or anything that might be looking for us." He turns again to half face her, the smug grin never quite falling from his features. "I'll even be nice. When you eventually return tomorrow, i'll try not to make him scream too much." His mismatched gaze moves to to the broken door just a little way from him.

"-- Tomorrow?" Vex turns to stare at Vairg. ".. I've been out all fucking sun! I barely get any fucking sleep because you won't leave him alone!" She gestured to the broken door during her protest, ears pinning - only to twitch as the faintest sound emits from a door across the room, undeniably a growling sound from X'llaya's cell.

"Good to know you're listening. Yes, tomorrow. Give me attitude and i'll make it worse." It was unclear, exactly, who he was speaking to with his latter comment, as his attention snapped to a long unused - And recently reoccupied cell across the room. "Understand?"

That was for the both of them. I can hear X’llaya growling like an animal.

...I wonder if she fights like one, too. But she soon stopped when she heard what i said.

Hmm...

The growling grew silent, then. Vex frowned, casting a glance towards the door. She raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, sighing. ".. A bell of sleep. Can I get that, at the very least?"

Vairg's lips curl into a smirk the very instant the growling stops. "Mm. Maybe. How long do you think it will take for Grym to realise you're not doing as you're told? More than a bell, or less?" Every word was taunting, with every intention to rub her the wrong way. "And then he'd have to punish you. And that would be -very- inconsiderate for your neighbours now, wouldn't it?"

Vex's expression spelled out her unamusement, flames flickering across the bare skin of her shoulders as crimson eyes twitched. ".. I hate every single one of you." She grumbled her words with a deep sigh. "I'm sure he'd be -considerate- enough not to disturb -her- all too much." She jerked a thumb towards X'llaya's cell. "Might even have the common decency to haul me into his office beforehand."

"Maybe!" Vairg responds, with a little too much amusement in his tone, both for the prospect and Vex's visible irritance. "...Want to find out?" He taps his foot on the floor again in some impatience.

...Go on. Find out. Give me some entertainment.

Before i have to entertain myself, somehow.

"As if anyone here gives a flying fuck what I want." She turned fully, then - sighing. "Absolute bullshit.."

"You're right. We don't. Have a nice walk, Vex." Vairg replies, chuckling as he took his seat back against the door, resting his head to the wood.

".. Go fuck yourself, Vairg." Vex hissed, feet setting into motion and beginning to head towards the stairs once more, body slouched in obvious weariness.

...I’m sure there’s something i can think of, if i put my mind to it...

#[What We Want Most]#FFXIV #IC #Writing #Textlog

4 notes · View notes

ultramagicalternate · 8 months

Text

ULTRAMagic Interlude: Shadowland Chapter 2

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

Whereas The Iron City had primarily gothic architecture with hints of victorian, Shadowland leaned heavily into victorian architecture with hints of gothic. It was a truly beautiful city despite having seen better days. The havoc wrought by Milosh could not cover up the amazing symmetry and craftsmanship of the buildings and roads. Things were quiet as the carriage rolled calmly through the streets. The area in question was under Sten’s control, but it was eerie to see the place seemingly deserted. In truth, the people that lived there were actually watching through the old, scratched windows.

The driver called for the horses to stop at Dustman’s street. It had a direct path to Sten’s castle. “Whoa there! Alright everyone, we’ve arrived.”

As they all got out, Barna handed the driver a pouch of coins. “Thank you very much. We’ll keep you posted if we need any help.”

“Very welcome to you, Mr. Schindewolf. Best of luck to all of you.” With a flick of the reins, the carriage was off once again.

What was that about, dad? I thought uncle had this all set up for us?” Aureolus questioned.

“Aw, don’t worry, my boy. I just felt like giving him a little extra something for the hassle.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Schindewolf” Gabriella complimented. “Now what is our first order of business?”

“Assuming we don’t get jumped by a random cultist, my fellows should be here soon… Dunja, careful! There’s a… Earth spirit there…”

She picked up her armored foot and gagged a bit. “Eww… why do these things have to be so disgusting?” Dunja scraped it off her boot and held it firm. “You little whelp! Where do you get off having such an ego?” She then crushed it in her hand, turning it to dust.

“My my, so they show up here too…” Gabriella observed. “It seems like that one never got what he truly wanted in life, for the worst.”

“Well good riddance either way…” Dunja stated. “Ew ew ew… forgot how nasty they were…”

Barna chuckled. “That’s one less spirit Milosh has to work with… speaking of which, where is that rat bastard?” He began sniffing the air like a hunting hound.

“Any luck, dad?” Aureolus asked.

“No… his scent is faint, which means he hasn’t been around here recently.”

Dunja looked about as she brushed off her hands. Things were fine until she noticed two individuals approaching, causing her to nervously scoot behind Barna. “Ahem, Barna…”

“Dunja, what are you… oh, ha, I see. Claudius! Weaver! Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!”

“Buongiorno, Barna” Claudius greeted, taking off his hat.

“Barna! Good to see you again” Weaver followed.

Claudius was a fairly normal man. He had tidy brown hair, soft blue eyes, and fancied himself a well groomed mustache. His attire was professional, adorned by a waxed leather coat that appeared black. It was worn, yet it was obvious that it had been through a lot. Weaver was more abnormal by a striking degree. His skin was pale indigo, his eyes were purple, and his long hair was like a rich blue fire that flowed calmly in the wind. His attire was a white button up shirt and brown dress pants.

“Before we address the elephant in the room, gentlemen, allow me to introduce our new faces,” Barna said as he brought Aureolus over. “Son, this is Claudius Alfieri. He’s our doctor and resident sabotage expert.”

“Hi, Mr. Alfieri, It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Aureolus” he replied as they shook hands. “Please, call me Claudius.”

Next was Weaver, who eagerly shook the boy’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, kid. I heard you’re learning smithing and alchemy, aye?”

“Yup. Dad and my brother are teaching me.”

“Well you got some of the best teachers around. The Schindewolf’s are second to none when it comes to this stuff. Barna was my teacher back when I first arrived and the stuff he taught me was some of the best techniques in the Unlight, all being stuff I still use to this day…”

Barna laughed. “Alright Weaver, we still have one more face to go…” He gestured for Gabriella to step over. “Gentlemen, this is Gabriella Pari. She’s an angel and the daughter of Valentina, coming highly recommended by her.”

“As I live and breathe, are you truly such a being, Gabriella?” Claudius asked with a bit of wonder and awe in his voice.

Gabriella nodded, followed by a pair of wings emerging from her back. “Why yes I am. I’m fairly young as an angel and nowhere near as strong as my mother, but I hope I can be of help to you regardless.”

“Do not fret your eminence, for it is an honor to merely be in your presence.”

While Claudius was humble, Weaver went right in and shook her hand. This caused the doctor to give him a stern look that went unnoticed by the young man. “The name’s Craddock, Weaver Craddock. Resident blacksmith. If you need any smithing done of any kind, just let me know. I’m available whenever you need me.”

Gabriella giggled. “Why thank you, Weaver. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Barna caught a whiff of Weaver’s scent. Was he attracted to Gabriella? If that was the case, he would have to take that up with Valentina. “Ey, Dunja, where are you going?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her over.

Claudius shifted his gaze. “So it’s true then…”

“Well I’ll be damned…” Weaver remarked. “Shoot, Dunja, looks like we’re not going to be able to settle our last fight…”

Dunja inhaled and exhaled. “Guys, I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I put you through. I’m here to make everything right, this I swear.” She was sweating bullets as she waited for them to respond. It felt like they were looking right through her, directly at her soul.

“Claudius, what do you think?”

“Well, Weaver, given the recent turn of events and the destruction of the shadow orb, I’d say she’s serious. You have my forgiveness , your majesty” He said with a bow.

Dunja was dumbfounded. “Wait, just like that!?”

“Yes… and no.” Weaver took her hand and shook it. “Talk is cheap, but you did screw over Milosh. Let’s see what else you can do for the cause. If Barna and Claudius are willing, I’ll also give you a chance.”

“Thank you, Weaver. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Fantastic” Aureolus complimented. “Did you know Aunt Dunja is going to be teaching me void magic?”

Claudius put his wide-brimmed hat back on. “Bene ora, another void caller?”

“Yup! I’m even going to teach Blood-Wraith what I know when I get home.”

“Jeez… Ha, you know the thrashing Duja put me through with her void magic?” Weaver recalled as the group began walking.

“Really? Well if it’s anything like the showdown with Uncle Englehart, I’m not surprised” Aureolus concluded. Dunja had a regretful smile because of this.

Not too far away in a busy alley were a boy and a man. The former was a raven-haired child of regal demeanor and the latter was built like a brick wall and had familiar blonde hair. Despite looking like they had seen better days, the two were working hard to clean things up. The man was helping people move supplies back and forth while the boy kept record of everything. It had been quite the busy day for the both of them. Of course, the arrival of a certain group had them a bit distracted.

“You really think Dunja turned over a new leaf, Folkvar?” The man asked as he handed a crate to a worker.

“Father seems to think so, which has me a bit surprised, truth be told.”

“Hey, Allan! Toss me a rag!” One of the other workers called out.

“Sure!” He replied. “I asked Torunn about it last night and she said it’s not impossible.”

Folkvar handed the documents back to a supervisor and gestured for Allan to follow him. “Well they should be here by now. Let’s go see what’s up.”

A third worker handed the two some bread for the go and wished them luck. “Ma seemed pretty interested in this as an edge against the other blades” Allan noted. “You still upset over all that Darkborne nonsense?”

Folkvar took a big bite out of his chunk of bread. “Kind of, but it’s in the past now. Given what we’ve learned recently, I’m fully inclined to forgive her. I think it’s safe to say Milosh is the real bad guy here.”

Allan pondered for a moment. “So has your dad decided on what he’s going to do about Andelin and Gratiana?”

“Well, it sounds like he’s in a charitable mood at the moment…”

“... so exile instead of execution?” Allan quipped.

Both of them laughed. “No, neither of those. He fully recognizes that that would be a waste of talent and might. I guess that if we can defeat them and have them join us, he’ll grant them pardons.”

“Huh, charitable indeed…”

“Well remember, my father admires Torunn. I bet she convinced him to give all of them a second chance… baring Milosh.”

Allan nodded. “Sounds about right.”

The two continued on until a low, bellowing roar was heard. They stopped and heard it again, albeit quieter. “I don’t like the sound of that…” Folkvar said with concern.

“Me neither” Allan replied as he stroked his small beard. “Ma’s probably on it, but let’s hurry up regardless…”

Barna had also heard the roar and was even more concerned as he knew whose roar that was. Not wanting to freak everyone out, he subtly got the group to pick up the pace by taking the lead. “Now if we proceed up this way, we should run into Allan and the prince…”

“Uh, dad? Are you okay?” Aureolus asked, a tad concerned.

“Why look! I can see them off yonder” Barna cried. It was obvious he was worried and wanted everyone together as soon as possible.

Dunja felt her blood run cold as she saw the young boy in the distance. “Okay, easy… just take it slowly and apologize…” she muttered.

Weaver shook his head. “Ain’t this a far cry from a year ago… Dunja, relax. Folkvar’s over it… for the most part.”

“Certo” Claudius assured. “Recent raids on Milosh’s compounds have confirmed that the Darkborne angle of the religion was ultimately Milosh’s idea…”

“Source, I should have had that rat executed! I could have done it too!” Dunja exclaimed in frustration.

Weaver laughed. “It’s cathartic to hear you say that.”

“Just to set the records straight, I NEVER liked Milosh…”

“Hence why you slept with your blades instead, is it not?” Claudius playfully chided.

Dunja groaned. “I am never going to live that down…”

“Huh, so what Blood said about that meeting was true. Honestly I was a bit skeptical on that one…” Aureolus remembered.

“Oh, here they come!” Gabriella pointed out.

“Alright everyone, look lively. Allan and his highness are here” Barna announced. “Boys! It’s been too long!” He warmly greeted as he hugged each of them.

“Here we go… Just take it easy and apologize. It’ll be fine…” Dunja said quietly as she took one last breath to calm her nerves.

Next: Chapter 3

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #literature #fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #story #chapter

1 note · View note

catostrofiqu · 10 months

Text

Warnings for: Gore, decay

"My friend and I didn't know whether to call this place the creepy house or evil nun home." Sure seems like a weird name for a building I thought. Google maps sure let's you get away with weird stuff. Whelp time to go explore it.

I brought a torch with me, it's got a sturdy pointy part at the end which I normally use for getting in-between gaps but I guess it could be used as a weapon in a pinch and I forget to change the batteries. Which is a stupid and simple thing to do but I continued on thinking I'd have plenty of light.

It was a genuinely a creepy area, seemed like an abandoned church, there was a room filled with pews and another filled with religious peices. I had to turn away from the last set of outside doors when my torch dimmed significantly signally that it would die soon.

Thats when I realised the thing that set my nerves off, despite everything that said this place was abandoned was that there was no graffiti. No tags, no nothing to say that anyone had been there and yet as I think back to all the rooms I'd been in everything had been standing. No overturned pews, no quite noises created by any nearby creatures and no noise from the nearby highway. I'd parked in backstreets but the highway was near enough that I should've heard something. There was no dust either. Only rust and decay.

I had had enough of the creepy house. A bit spooked I start the short trek back to my car when I run into my Brother.

"What are you doing here" my Brother asked seemingly distressed that I was there.

What am I supposed to say. I'd technically just broken onto private property despite it being abandoned. "Exploring." There nailed it.

"You've got to leave, now."

"Why."

"I need to get everyone out of that building before they get back." He points to the church.

"There's no one there." Because there was no one there... unless I missed something in the door.

"What do you mean theres no one there." My Brother seemed surprised and almost slightly angry that'd I do something like explore and abandoned building in the middle of the night.

"I mean there was the last set of doors that seem like separate from the main building itself. I haven't looked there yet I guess." That seemed like the right thing to say. I probably wouldn't escape the lecture over what I was doing but I could delay it till later.

"You stay here or leave. I'm going to get them."

"I'm not leaving"

"Then stay right here behind that tree, where you'll be hidden."

"Those are both stupid ideas. I'm coming with you."

My brother wanted to continue arguing but seemed to think he didn't have time, so instead he said.

"Fine."

I was ecstatic I never win those kinds of arguments without mum present to tell my brother to let me come. Whining I know but it's normally I just need a lift somewhere like a train station.

We turned to the back to the building and started walking. "Why're you even here bro." My Brother didn't seem like he was going to share.

We reach the doors and the surrounding silence continues. Nothing but the sounds of two pairs of footsteps and our light breathing.

"The doors locked. Maybe there's a key." My Brother steps back to look around the floor to see if there's a key on the ground. I look at the lock and find its almost rusted through. Maybe if I use the torch and a good shov- I did it.

My brother looks up from his searching. Gives me a thumbsup and walks through the door. The smell that came out can only be described as nose cancelling. Not noise cancelling. Nose cancelling. I pull my shirt up to cover my nose and hopefully not get sick from the stench. I don't even want to ask what's in here from fear of inhaling more. My brother has pulled out a cheap face mask and continues on looking uncomfortable with the smell but dealing.

I follow him into the building. This room is covered in dust. A pathway looks to have been worn into it. Steps can be seen reflecting from the dwindling torch light. We turn a corner and find five people. Dust and dirt covered people. It look like they haven't eaten properly in weeks. They're all huddled in the corner of the room. Dust flies around the room disturbed by the draft from the door. The people have a small pile next to them. It consists of a bucket hat, four phones and a single rusted lighter.

"Who're you." The oldest looking barely croaks out.

"Help." My Brother says looking around the room for any kind of trap. The room has one long thin window not even an arms width, spaning the length of one of the rooms walls.

"Nothing here, let's go." My Brother tells us walking over to help the poor people up. I follow to go help one of the people up when I here a noise from outside. "Footsteps." I say quietly. My brother heard them aswell. "They're here."

My brother goes to walk back outside and I follow, turning my torch off in the process. What I see shouldn't make sense. Five more people, these ones wearing dirtied white clothing. There's two males standing much taller then the rest. The way the ambient light hits there face its almost like their eyes are black. "Get them." The shorter of the tallest says before running for my brother and I.

I scream the loudest scream I ever will. It echo's and carries far but not far enough.

"They won't hear you here little one." The closest one says to me.

My brother seems to be trying to kill the two attacking him.

The taller ones stopped and were watching him seemingly unconcerned about me or the one circling me like an unprovoked wolf.

Then they lunged and I took the only item good for fighting on me and hit her. Her skull seemed to shatter under it under it. Brittle like a thin sheet of glass. That deffinetly wasn't right. Skulls should be solid and yet as soon as I hit them they crumpled to the ground blood pouring out in dark rivulets, coating my shoes in the sticky substance.

The two male's turned to stare, almost surprised that I managed to take down one of their own. But then they smiled, a smile too wide and too bright for the lighting we had. The tallest runs for me, uncaring for the ground beneath him and uncaring for the dead one.

I can't do anything except try and get a good position and hope that their skulls shatter just as easily.

The tallest lunges for me and I take the torch and hit him twice. Both into the skull, he crumples to the ground just as easily as the already dead one but he still moves, trying to get back up and I do the only thing I can think of and stomp my foot down into his head. Brain matter and Shattered bone go everywhere.

I pause for a breath only to here an enraged shriek as the second tallest mourns the death of the one I just downed. I look to my brother to find he's killed only one of the two he's fighting. A pocket knife glints in his hands.

I'm looking to my brother before bracing as the last one picks me up taller then I thought he was and much much closer then he should've been. He's screaming and frothing at the mouth trying to squeeze me to death and rip my hair out with his teeth. I barely manage to get my arm free and try hitting his head only to find that he skull is normal. His skull is solid and that that is going to be the death of me. A skull acting how it should.

I'm loosing oxygen when I realise one of his eyes is less black. But that wouldn't matter because I take the freed hand hold the torch and plunge it into his eye socket. He releases me and screams. My brother had taken down his last opponent and trips the screaming man. He flails in pain upon the floor voice cracking before falling silent as my brother takes the pocket knife to his throat. The man splutters choaking to death on his own blood.

"We should call the cops." My Brother says unalarmed at the man dying.

"What was that?" I ask adrenalin leaving me. I had just killed someone. Something. Whatever the man and the rest of his group were definitely weren't fully human.

"Don't know. Don't care. Let's call the cops and leave." My Brother says wiping off the blade on his shirt.

"What about the people inside?"

"They'll be fine now the cloaking has worn off. The cops should be able to find this place now. " as my brother speaks I realise I can now here stuff outside of the small circle again. I can hear the highway and I can hear a bunch of sirens getting closer and closer.

"We should go now unless you want to try to explain what just happened."

"Fine."

This is based on a dream I had. I think I was too warm when I slept. Being warm always gives me strange dreams. In the dream the people in the building were people I knew. This was honestly the goriest dream I've had. I can't write gore well but just take what I said and picture it worse. Yes my brother was in fact fighting the other 2 in my dream.

I'm pretty certain that my brain took the place name off of somewhere on google maps. It took the idea from somewhere and i don't know where.

The only thing majorly different from this and my dream was that 2 of the five people fighting had on the nun headgear thing.

@one-time-i-dreamt

#cw: gore #decay #one time i dreamt #like its probably the worse dream ive had and i didnt even awaken from it #the nearby highway was also true because of where my brain had placed the building #i kinda wanna draw this

1 note · View note

intriga-hounds · 2 years

Text

the covid is technically gone but after literally -every- task i have to lie down so can we really say i’m ok

#text #i thought it would hit my sister hardest #but it has truly been a fight just to stay seated every day at work and not be on the floor #and pretend everything is totally fine and do my work #then come home and stress out about all the chores i need to do #i managed to mow the lawn today #if i feel up to it later i would like to vaccuum and figure out our new trash service #and take out all our cardboard #and i need to set up the whelping area��..#i need to wash blankets and dog beds #my car needs to be washed #but i am soup!!!#my brother picked up poop at least and made dinner for me to heat up later

37 notes · View notes

riddle-me-ri · 2 years

Text

Riddler x F!Reader - Crossing the Line Pt. 1

A/N: Whelp...here goes..my second attempt at a Riddler x Reader fanfic but my first real attempt at mature fanfiction rip. Special thanks to @finniestoncrane for not only being a huge inspiration but also motivating me to even share this in the first place. I didn’t have any particular Riddler in mind, albeit I pictured the one from Killing Time (he’s unreasonably and stupidly attractive in that comic) if that helps. Honestly anyone that you guys think MAY have an exhibition kink can go here ashgdshgahdg

18+ Readers ONLY! Trigger Warnings: explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, cursing, violence, gun/weapon usage, heavy sexual harassment (Ed’s not doing the harassing), drinking…I think that’s it. Those are the big ones anyway. And most of these will occur in the second part, this is mostly for set-up and context cause...I need plot with my porn I’m sorry lol.

Also word count is 1.6k sooo hope you in for the long haul rip

Here’s Part Two and Part Three

The booming thumps from the bass of the EDM music playing sends vibrations all throughout your body. It takes you some time to adjust from walking down a solemn empty alley to a bustling bombastic club filled with booze and bodies. You still manage to saunter on through the music and sweaty dancing bodies towards the bar.

You’re not here to indulge in the thriving nightlife…but rather reap what is sewn when one or a few people of interest indulge a little too much. Lips loosened from a dazed mind is one of the easiest forms to obtain information.

You hop onto the barstool, making it to the bar in one piece and with no one taking notice of you too soon.

Can’t draw more attention than necessary. I’m already pushing it with this dress…

Alas, it was your lucky dress. Not to mention…it is his favorite…

You turn around on the barstool with your preferred drink in hand and lean back against the wooden bar. You watch the sea of people on the dance floor creating various waves as they dance.

“I see you made it in.”

You smile softly at the warm smooth voice you hear through your obscured earpiece. You lift your glass over your lips. “Safe and sound.”

“It’s certainly a less…intimate establishment compared to the Iceberg Lounge.”

“You must not have many cameras on the dance floor then…” You giggle, quirking your eyebrow at a couple who were practically fucking if not for their clothes.

He scoffs. “You wound me, my dear. I have access to every available security camera in that whole block and then some.”

He pauses, you can almost hear him smirking when he says, “it’s just my primary focus is on you, darling.”

You hum softly, not being able to hold back your smile anymore. Your eyes rake over the dance floor again. Then you take in the numerous chairs and tables that make up the seating areas surrounding the dance floor. There are booth seats all along the walls of the club. A simple set up but it serves its purpose.

You don’t fail to notice the deep red accents around the place. The whole front half of the building is brick walls painted in maroon red. The seat cushions had a tri-pattern of red, white, and black.

You did not have to be the World’s Greatest Detective to deduce who ran the joint. Hair and bodies are tossing and twisting to the music. The only thing illuminating the silhouettes on the dance floor are the kaleidoscopic lights blinking and circling to the beat. Laughs and jeers barely rise above the music as the guests continue to indulge in the night life courtesy of ex-DA Harvey Dent

“Do you recognize any of my men?”

You shook your head over your glass rim as if he was right beside you. “No…nobody yet, although these lights aren’t helping much.”

You scour through the club. Your eyes lead you to the sitting area to your right of the dance floor. There was a second floor above the sitting area. A wooden staircase is guarded by red rope and a bouncer wearing a symmetrical black and red suit.

“I think I found the V.I.P area.”

“Wait a little longer,” his voice tenses with urgency. “Don’t want to be too hasty.”

“I got this, Eddie baby.” You assure. You cannot help but smile again at Ed’s concerns for you.

“I know, but this isn’t a normal investigation into the ongoings of my fellow rogues. We’re looking for a traitor.”

Edward Nygma has his own agents that infiltrate most of the leading gangs in Gotham. If someone was going to rob Gotham City Bank. Ed knew about it. If a mobster planned an attack on another gang’s turf. Ed knew about it.

If a henchman got greedy and decided to switch sides in the illusion of more wealth or credit in the criminal underworld…Edward Nygma will know.

As someone whose modus operandi pertains to puzzles and riddles, Ed notices patterns fairly quickly. It was not a fluke that his shipment of bombs and weapons was stolen straight off the boat. It was not a coincidence that one of his latest deals went sour all of a sudden after months of negotiations.

Unfortunately, as they say, the third time’s the charm. One of Edward’s storage units was robbed. Whatever the intruders could not take it was destroyed. Computers, motherboards, hard drives. Gone. Whoever stole the goods also knew where he placed his cameras.

There was a pattern. In this six month sequence of events, a handful of Ed’s henchmen have gone to and from this storage room whether to use a weapon or drop off an object of interest. Henchmen that have assisted the Riddler for years, that he thought have earned the privilege into his inner arsenal.

He was wrong.

Edward does not like being wrong. He is a genius whose intellectual prowess allows little to no errors. If there ever were to be any errors, Ed is adamant of snuffing it out by any means necessary. He just hates that he had to drag you into it, but you are truly the one and only individual he has ever trusted with everything…and anything really. You were the only one he could trust when he admitted the intrusion of the unit and his presumptions of a traitor.

He’ll never forget the fire in your eyes. Your voice was steady but full of indignation as you questioned his next move. Someone on the outside looking in would have thought your equipment had been stolen. His plan to draw out the snake never involved you, at first. Until you offered to help. It was one of those rare occasions that Ed was hesitant to say yes to your wishes.

It made sense in hindsight, you have done similar excursions before (but that was with at least one ally in the vicinity, like Selina or Harley). Even if it was logical it did not mean he had to be comfortable with it.

You turn around to face the bar and flag the bartender. You leaned your head to your shoulder before telling Ed your next move.

“Eddie, I’m gonna grab another drink and make my way to the seating area…maybe I won’t even need to to to V.I.P.”

“Okay, I’ll be right here. I’ve got every camera on and live. If anything even feels the slightest bit off-”

“Baby, I got this. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

“I know, I-I know…I just..” He sighs.

“But I love that you worry..” You reply sweetly.

“Of course I do.” He mutters and you can almost see him crossing his arms exasperatedly.

You smile softly, that is about all you will get of an “I love you,” out of him. Not that you were pressing him for one. You knew Ed well enough to know he relies more on actions than words when it came to your romance. The fact he lets you in and allows you to see the most intimate parts of him was more than enough. You knew the anxiety he has of those three words.

For Edward those words were a curse.

Once you got your drink you made your way to the sitting area below the V.I.P lounge. It would be pretty ballsy of you to head straight for the roped off V.I.P area, but maybe you could charm your way up there.

You start weaving your way through the tables and chairs again. You decide to head towards a booth that looks out to the other patrons. You can also make eye contact with at least one of the surveillance cameras.

Suddenly, you felt two fingers tap on your bare shoulder. You look over your shoulder with a soft neutral smile ready to turn to a snarl or smirk depending on what this person said next.

“Heeeyyyy there purdy lady. A-Are you here all by yourself?” Ah, a drunken basted, smirk it is.

Luckily, the music slowed down so you were able to make sense of his slurring words. He is tall and awfully bony. He is sweating by the bucket loads as it tries to cool off his overheating body and bright red face. His shirt is covered in small stains on his maroon dress shirt and wrinkles. The stains most likely from taking shots and just missing his whole mouth and the wrinkles from hastily untucking it and wringing the sweat out of the shirt.

You hum and nod excitedly, “I am! Isn’t it just a shame?”

His smile stretches into a pseudo confident smirk which falters as his voice continues to crackle with anxiety. “W-would you like to…s-s-sit with me and my friends? W-we’re rrreealllyy good c-company.”

He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. You follow the digit to see a group of three other men sitting at a round wooden table. The other two seem to be just as inebriated and disheveled as their colleague in front of you. Snickering and nudging each other; like school boys watching the shy friend they dared to ask out the prettiest girl in school.

Those two were the least of your concerns.

It is the burly brooding man on the far right. He balances himself on the back legs of a rickety wooden chair that chokes on his weight with every roll of his foot that keeps him balanced. His gold eyes bore into you. While his buddies look at you like an ethereal being. He looks are you like a piece of meat, like prey and he is a starved predator.

Those gold eyes look familiar, causing your breath to slightly hitch as you take in the group. Alarm bells are ringing in your ears, but you never let it show.

You gulp down your nerves and gave the fellow in front of you a bright joyous smile. You thought he would melt when you patted his shoulder. “I’d love to join you and your friends!”

#riddler x reader #dc comics fanfiction #riddler fanfiction #ri writes #riddler x reader fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

rays-of-fire-and-ice · 3 years

Note

If you're up for it, your top 5-10 favorite bankai? Also happy birthday!

Ask me for my Top 5/Top 10 of anything!

Thanks for the birthday wishes anon! Whelp, I guess the Shikai forms ranking is getting a sequel; note that I'm ranking these based on preference and not on strength (if that were the case, this would be a very different list). Now, without further ado:

10. (Old) Tensa Zangetsu

I need to put this on the list for nostalgia. Who doesn't vividly remember the reveal of this one? And who doesn't get even a little bit hyped when Ichigo calls out 'Gentsuga tensho'? Ichigo vs Byakuya absolutely sold it, showing how powerful it was. It's low on the list because it got overused and lost a lot of the hype around it - at a certain point it basically becomes Ichigo default form along with the Hollow mask.

9. Suzumushi Tsuishiki: Enma Korogi

This one has grown on me and it's one of the more unique bankai I feel; it's kind of grand in that it makes the massive tent around Tosen and his opponent for the former to use use as his own personal battle arena. I wish we got to see more of it, like Tosen versus a large group of opponents (again, the tent is big enough).

8. Hihio Zabimaru

I have a soft spot for this one. Don't get me wrong though, Renji's true Bankai looks cool and would have likely made this list if the anime version were out, but until then, this is the Bankai I'll remember Renji having. I've always liked the scale of it, the snake design, and it's got some cool abilities!

7. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi

Who knew flower petals could be so threatening? In the beginning, Byakuya set up a lot of benchmarks for Ichigo, from obtaining a Shikai to obtaining a Bankai that could match his. As a benchmark at the time, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi was incredible, and I will never forget the feeling of awe I got when I saw it for the first time. Nowadays it's not the most powerful zanpakuto, but I still think it's awesome and one of the most versatile. I love the forms it can take on, allowing Byakuya to use it in either close combat or as a range weapon. I also love how powerful it became after Byakuya's recovery at Zero Division, Ikka Senjinka looks like an epic Finally, it's a small thing, but I like how he uses it in the last arc to catch Toshiro after he got flung away and carry him to a softer landing, it showed a new way it could be used to help allies.

6. Hakka no Togame

It is beauty, it is grace, and it's about to freeze this whole place! Lame jokes aside, this is an amazing Bankai. I love how Rukia looks here, like a true ice queen and showing the inner elegance and grace she's always had. The power itself is so OP, almost rivaling Hyourinmaru's Completed form's powers. It's main weaknesses (that Rukia could injure herself if she doesn't deactivate it slowly and that it will freeze any allies in the surrounding area) actually makes a pretty tense one to read/watch, so if it's used in the potential new Hell arc, it'll have me on the edge of my seat.

5. Nozarashi's Bankai

This one is pure hype in the best way possible. The moment I saw Kenpachi transform, I put on the battle music and knew I was in for something epic. I was not disappointed; after seeing him rip off Gerard's whole arm WITH ONLY HIS TEETH and cleave the crap out of him, I needed to do a lap of my block to calm down from the hype. This is the Bankai that shows why we needed an anime continuation, because even though this one looks AMAZING in manga form, I'm very sure it's going to look even better when it's animated. Kenpachi still has a long way to go before he has full control over it, but boy, the potential for this one is amazing!

4. Sakashima Yokoshima Happōfusagari

This Bankai is one of the reasons I'm hoping we're getting an anime adaption of the Can't Fear Your Own World light novels. Shinji's bankai has got be one of the most chaotic and OP ones we've seen yet. For those not aware, his Bankai affects a large area and has the power to reverse how allies and enemies perceive each other. Basically, if you get caught up in it, you now perceive your allies as your enemies and your enemies as your allies. So while Shinji is sealed away in that golden flower, everyone is fighting each other until they've all killed each other. That is nuts!! There's also some story/thematic relevance that just gets me thinking back to when Aizen betrayed the Visoreds (Shinji once saw Aizen as an ally he needed to keep an eye on and both have zanpakuto that affect the perception of their opponents, but then Shinji was betrayed by Aizen and became his enemy...it's me overthinking I know!!) I just hope that it somehow makes it into the anime, it seriously deserves to be animated!

3. Kamishini no Yari

I'm surprised this one made it this high too. I'm not gonna lie, there are two things that help this Bankai's very simplistic power: 1) who the wielder is (essentially Gin being his creepy and cryptic self), and 2) the anime makes it look awesome. In the manga, I just thought it was like his Shikai, not much going on here. The anime really sells this one though, showing how sudden it can be and the scope it can reach and cut through. It's quick, simple, and effective; no complications and can kill a target in seconds. With Gin as the wielder, you really don't know when he's going to unleash it or even what the actual power of it is (he kept lying to Ichigo about how far his Bankai extends and never told anyone about it's secret ability).

I am a sucker for a cool weapon design, but I'm also an absolute fool for a weapon that links back to it's wielder thematically, and Shinso's Bankai definitely does just that. Like Gin it's a snake, from how it can extend as quickly as it can contract to the twist of a poisonous piece of the blade being embedded in whoever is unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end. It;s abilities shows it's venomous like a snake and also secretive/deceptive like snakes are often portrayed thematically. This Bankai is Gin to a 'T'.

Finally, let's not forget that if it weren't for the Hogyoku, Aizen would have likely died from Gin's attack.

2. Zanka no Tachi

Yamamoto is far from my favourite BLEACH character, but his Bankai....this thing is FIRE! I see it barely get talked about, and yes, it has it's drawbacks that might bring down the cool factor, but have you seen what this Bankai can do?! Yamamoto can obliterate anything and everything the tip of the sword cuts through, can set himself on fire so an opponent cannot touch him, and DID YOU SEE THE DOUBLE PAGE OF HIM RAISING THE DEAD?! If it weren't for the twins twist, Yhwach would've been dead! This is a fitting Bankai for the Head Captain, and it looks like something ancient, something that's been there since the beginning of the Shinigami. When this gets animated, I won't be surprised if more people come on board for this one. I only wish we got to see more it!

1. Daiguren Hyourinmaru

To the surprise of no one, we have this as number one. This one ticks all the boxes: Cool design? Check. Awesome powers? Check. Is linked to it's wielder in some personal way? Check. Has a wielder that uses it effectively and/or in interesting ways? Check.

Let's start with Daiguren's usual form. In terms of design, even though it's bulky, it also perfectly encapsulates where Toshiro is at in terms of his powers: he has a powerful form but it still has a long way to go before it reaches it's full potential. The range of attacks with this one is amazing as well, from Ryusenka to Hyoten Hyakkaso to ice clones (unfortunately not as utilized as it could have been), and has other abilities like being able to regenerate itself. Also, who doesn't want a pair of wings? And these wings not only help Toshiro fly, they also can shield him from attacks.

And then there's the Completed form. In terms of design, well, it's something all right. I love the ice that forms on him, it makes him look like a general or knight, and I'm hoping we'll get to see more of the wings of this form in the anime, they look pretty neat! I know there's a fan divide on his adult appearance, and while I personally don't mind it and appreciate it as a glimpse into the future, it's not the reason I love this form. The powers always get to me; they're all designed to nullify an opponent's powers/weapons and freeze any and all matter to the core. OP as heck? You betcha. But boy oh boy, it's amazing to read and watch every single time. Just thinking about it's powers gets me pumped up for the anime adaption of the battle between Toshiro and Gerard. When I think 'the most powerful ice-type zanpakuto' these powers could not be more perfect.

I plan to talk more about this form in an upcoming post, but my final thought on it is the fact this was the result of Toshiro's training to strengthen his bankai to better protect Momo never fails to make me tear up. He's come so far as a character and in his powers, I just can't get over it even six years on.

Thanks for sending this one in! :D

74 notes · View notes

howlingday · 2 years

Note

Pokemon au even though Crocea Mors does not listen to Jaune does he still protect him if he even needed protection sense he is still an Arc

"Crocea Mors, use, uh..." Jaune flipped through his cue cards, "Swords Dance?"

The Aegislash scowled with it's one eye down at Jaune. For the past week since leaving home, the boy had been trying to order him around. The audacity! Crocea Mors was a blade of kings, gifted to the Arc family centuries ago as a sign of acknowledging their strength! And now this whelp who only just now decided to become a Pokémon trainer believes he can tell him what to do? Crocea Mors did what he did best when Jaune ordered him around.

He started loafing around.

"Hello, Jaune!" Pyrrha greeted, carrying Miló in her arms. "How's the training going?"

"Well, he's not attacking me, so there's that, I guess?" Jaune lazily waved with his hand.

"Hm, let me try something." Pyrrha set Miló on the ground and approached Crocea Mors. She glanced around the ancient weapon, then nodded. She then waved an arm and called out, "Crocea Mors, use Swords Dance!"

Crocea Mors spun in the air, swaying two and fro in it's sheath, then dove downward with a final spin. Dust flew from beneath, and he seemed to glow with a menacing aura of strength.

"That should do it." Pyrrha nodded. "Try to say it with more confidence, Jaune. Your Pokémon needs to believe in you as much as you believe in your Pokémon."

"Got it!" Jaune marched with a refreshed spirit, and declared proudly. "Crocea Mors, use Head Smash!"

Crocea Mors switched his stance from defense to offense, unsheathing his body from his shield. He raised his shield high, the faded bronze gleaming in the sunlight. Before Jaune could blink, Crocea Mors sent the shield crashing down!

...right into Jaune's head! The boy crumpled to ground, rolling as he squeezed his head. "OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!"

"Maybe the issue isn't confidence after all." Pyrrha scratched her cheek. "Are you okay, Jaune?"

Blinking as the pain began to fade, he groaned. "I feel like I was hit by a truck."

"I suppose that's not inaccurate, considering his attack was boosted before using the move."

"Right." Jaune groaned. "Could this day get any worse?"

Jaune was launched skyward with a yelp. As he fell, he saw a brown mound turning this way and that. It was a Dugtrio!

Pyrrha caught him and helped him to his feet. He stood next to Crocea Mors, getting serious. The Dugtrio seemed to be snorting, and had a bump on it's tallest head. Jaune must have woken it up. "Let's do this, Crocea Mors!" The blade grunted, acknowledging. This was it! Jaune would finally battle with Crocea Mors!

Jaune stepped forward, then tripped as a Diglett popped up under him. Once on the ground, more Diglett and Dugtrio arrived. They swarmed over to Jaune, knocking him off the ground and tossing him this way and that.

Crocea Mors was so embarrased, but then noticed the malicious delight the little diggers held in their eyes bullying Jaune. Then a raindrop stained the ground. No, not a raindrop. A tear. Jaune was crying.

Jaune was always a crybaby, surprisingly moreso than when he was an actual baby. He seldom studied, quit every sports team he joined, and only decided what he wanted to do with his life just a few months ago. Jaune Arc was a pathetic excuse for a man, but he was still an Arc.

Crocea Mors began to glow white and his shield seemed to get smaller and smaller. Then, swaying more vigorously than before, his menacing aura was twice as intimidating. He then sank to the ground in a black shadow.

Jaune bounced back and forth, repeatedly hit over and over, being bruised in a different area. He didn't want to cry, but it was a reflex he couldn't hold back. He opened his eyes quickly in mid-air to see Crocea Mors disappeared. Jaune began to tear up a little harder.

He noticed the bouncing lessened in both frequency and force. When he stopped bouncing, he saw all the Diglett and Dugtrio were gone, leaving behind dozens of holes. Crocea Mors floated behind him.

"Oh, there you are, Crocea Mors." Jaune sniffed, standing up as he rubbed his eyes. "Did you you get rid of those Pokémon for me?" Crocea Mors switched to his defense and turned away. Jaune chuckled. "Thanks, buddy."

Pyrrha smiled as she watched Jaune move his hand to pat Crocea Mors on the back. He then fell through, and Crocea Mors floated away. She looked down at Miló.

"Did you see that, Miló?" She asked. "That's what you're going to be when you become a Champion." It squealed in joy, and Pyrrha looked to the boy chasing after his Pokémon.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby Pokémon au #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #crocea mors #miló #aegislash #shieldon

45 notes · View notes

random-tinies · 3 years

Text

Crowza - 1

I’ve had this AU idea sitting in my brain for a while and I’m going to turn it into a full-on fanfiction series. I’ll be tagging it as Crowza AU Here is Chapter 1 💙 No trigger warnings for this one. ^^ just good fluff. ft. Mumza as Lady Death, 1.6k words

Previous (N/A) | Next

. .

There truly is no proper comparison to flying. Sure you can describe the feeling, you can say it's like swimming in freedom, but it will never compare to actually flying.

Philza thinks about this as he soars through the air, wind blowing through his primary feathers. Occasionally he flaps, defying the gravity that tries to pull him back down to earth. He takes a breath of fresh air, relishing the way it chills his lungs. If it weren't for his cloak and his feathers, he would be quite cold this high above the ground. Especially in early spring.

Although it's early April, occasional drifts of snow still dot the landscape below him as the birdman flies north for the summer. Twice a year, he makes this migration, and although it may be warmer in the southern areas, Phil enjoys the northern pine forest he calls his summer home. It's special to him for three reasons.

Kristin, his home, and his boys.

First things first, however. He needs to stop by his cache and see if it had been raided by squirrels while he was gone. Or if anything fresh is caught in his traps. Nasty buggers, always giving him grief. Troublesome creatures. Phil banks left and dives down towards a thick old oak tree with winding and twisted branches. He lands on one, bird feet gripping with sharp claws, and hops down to where his stash should be.

Near the center of the tree, the branches arch and wind themselves together in such a way that it forms the perfect shelter for someone his size. It had taken him a good century to help the young tree grow in such a way, but it gives him the perfect shelter year after year so every painstaking day of tying young branches was worth it.

Phil looks around to make sure he's not being watched before hopping inside. One can never be too careful when your cache is involved. His wings fold behind him as he walks forward, ducks under a large branch, and enters his storage room. A quick scan confirms that nothing found his home this winter and he relaxes, breathing a sigh of relief and grabbing some squirrel jerky to munch on.

It had been a long flight and he wants nothing more than to just flop on his bed and take a short nap, but he has two homes to visit first. His wings seem to ache in protest but he steps back outside and takes off into the sky once more.

A few strong flaps put him in the air and he soars the short distance it takes to get to his boys' cabin. He can see it from the top of his tree, it is an easy flight. He notices the youngest of the three outside chopping firewood and decides to land on the roof some ways above him. The sky is overcast enough that his silhouette looks just like a rather large crow.

The movement catches the boy's eye and he looks up, putting a gloved hand up to his face to try and shield his eyes from the bright white cloudshine. He squints and yells up at what he assumes is the same bird he's been seeing for years now, "Oi! Good to see you! Took your sweet time this year!"

Phil shuffles his wings and scoffs quietly. He's right on time. He always shows up to his Lady's forest on the same day every year. He watches his boy fondly as he continues to talk to himself, quieter now as he hefts the axe to chop another log in half. "Y'know, Wilbur thinks you're a crow but I think you're too big to be a crow. Plus I don't think crows can live as long as you have."

Phil sits down on the peak of the roof, legs still under him in case he needs a speedy escape. He listens to the peaceful sounds of a quiet life. A cold chill on the breeze, shadows crossing the ground as clouds moved through the sky, the occasional birdsong reaching their ears, the thunk of the axe as it chops through the wood.

The door to the cabin opens and Phil tenses, ready to fly off if attention is directed to him. He’s a little close to it and it could be a risk if whoever steps out decides to look up at him. While he loves these boys, if they find out he isn’t a crow then he’d never be able to return and watch them again.

A tall brunette steps out and calls to the blonde, “Hey, Tommy, when you’re done out here, could you come inside? Techno got a letter and we need to discuss it together, as a family.”

Tommy nods and sets down the axe. He nods towards the roof. “Hey, Wilbur, your crow friend is back. Silent as always.”

Whelp! Time to get out of there! Phil immediately takes off, flapping hard and flying over the boys’ heads. His silhouette is even harder to recognize as anything other than a crow as he soared away. Wilbur says, “Oh yeah, there it is, just like every year. You reckon he likes us?”

Whatever Tommy replies, Phil doesn’t hear it. He’s too far away, heading towards where Kristin lives in the forest. The landscape below him becomes denser and darker, the pines twisting and behaving oddly. Branches bend lower and often twist together. Crow caws are more frequent and a few join him as he flies towards his destination.

“Dadza!”

“Philza! It’s been so long!”

“Return of Dadza! Dadza! We missed you!”

Phil chuckles, striking up casual conversation with them, telling them stories of his travels. He does this every year when he returns from migration. Some of the murder follow him south during the winter but let him visit his boys alone. They prefer to stay with their lady, and Phil doesn’t blame them. He’d stay with her all the time if he was allowed.

At last they reach Kristin’s home. The murder descends and a few part ways to fly in through the open window. Phil smiles as he lands on a doormat that reads “On Death’s Door” and chuckles at the inside joke as he uses the tiny knocker built at the bottom just for him. The door opens and the most beautiful woman in all of history looks down at him with a fond smile. “And who would this be, knocking at my door?”

She wears a long black dress that graces her curves breathtakingly. Dark brown hair flows off her shoulders like a waterfall of shadows. Her voice is like the sound of windchimes in a gentle breeze, enveloping Phil in its peace. Even if his feet are rooted to the ground, his heart soars with joy. She is his everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Phil takes his hat off and bows to her, wings spread. When he looks up, she leans down and extends a hand towards him to step up onto. “You know I’d never miss an opportunity to have a brush with Death.”

His grin widens as she gives him a withering look. “You’ve said the same joke for the last five decades.”

“And you’ve said the same response for the last four decades.”

He laughs and balances himself as she lifts her hand. He bows his head as she presses a kiss to the top of his head, blush dusting his cheeks. The kiss of Death, if you will. Even if they’ve been together for forever, he’ll never get over these little moments. Coming back from his winter migration is his favorite part of the year.

Phil’s feathers ruffle and he places his hat back on his head. Nobody can make him feel as light as she can. She strokes his feathers and asks him about his flight, letting him perch on her hand. He tells her about the herd of deer he passed who had two fawns among them and the pack of wolves he heard while roosting one night.

She listens attentively to his words and pours him a small cup of tea. Phil could never express his love for her in the right way but he knows she understands. Their mob settles around them and drinks in every word, occasionally adding their own and squabbling amongst themselves. This is his family as much as his boys in their cabin are. He feels peace, drinking the bittersweet tea in his tiny cup.

A younger crow hops up and leans against Phil and preens his wings.

“Mumza! Mumza and Dadza!”

“Puppies! We love to see it!”

“Can we go visit them? I want to hear them!”

“Shiny ring… Phil, what about your boys?”

Phil hums and Kristin snaps her fingers. “I almost forgot! I meant to warn you, but the air is different this year. I’m not quite sure what’s going on, but I’ve felt more death in these areas than before. A few of my crows have gone missing.” She pets down his back, smoothing his feathers. “Be careful. I don’t want you to be among them, okay?”

He gives her his best reassuring smile and says, “You know me, Kristin. I never let anything happen to me. How many years have I managed to escape death?”

She chuckles. “Many times, though there have been some close calls. Just watch out. There are fates worse than death, my love.”

He bows his head. “Of course, my lady. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly. New crows that followed Phil there introduce themselves to Lady Death and join their flock. By the time the fire in the fireplace dies down, the two are fast asleep in her bed, snuggled together and dreaming of a happy future.

126 notes · View notes