#arctus ic

[goddesstrolls]

>> You stand in the side room of your shop, over a ring scrawled in your black blood. You're performing a minor version of this ritual; Communion with entities of the shadow plane. Your blood and the deer carcass you left in the center of the ring serve as offerings.

>> ...You hear the door to your shop open despite the fact that you locked it. The shop- Which appears in strange places and abandoned storefronts- Must have decided that they really needed something that you could provide.

>> You ignore the visitor despite being the only one to man the shop and continue your muttering, which carries through the curtain in the main part of the shop.

>> Directly across from the entrance is a heavy wooden counter loaded with mostly with scrolls and books with a curtained doorway behind the counter. To the right is the curtain partitioning the side room off from the rest of the shop; To the left are various shelves and display tables cluttered with strange books, odd-looking potions, parts of monsters and magical creatures, and a variety of both strange and mundane seeming items and trinkets. Another door practically juts out into the shop, this one closed. The shop space continues through a narrow hallway, which widens only slightly into a continued area of various items.

>> Your guest will simply have to wait for you to be finished...Or dare to interrupt. They won't be able to take anything; The door will lock itself and there are no windows to speak of. The shop is dimly lit by hanging sconces.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

> With Linnae being so young, but wielding a power so great, you never wander too far, even when you’re gone for nights on end.

> Things seemed fine. Until they weren’t. Until the birds seemed unsettled, until the trees began to whisper louder, until the littler creatures burrowed a touch deeper in their dens and the larger beasts moved along.

> It isn’t necessarily that something is not right. But something has changed.

> As you broaden your senses, you quickly become aware of a familiar voice calling for you. Not verbally, but mentally.

> You are very, very much not one to rush. But even you will take measures to expedite your arrival when your apprentice calls for you.

> You sincerely doubt they are in any severe trouble but there is always, always the chance that they are.

> You find Linnae easily, now that you’ve heard them. You are not far...But you are not near, either.

--

>> Around your apprentice, the shadows deepen. The trees groan, the wind shifts and something sours in the air, a shudder of fear. Something terrible approaches.

> The depths of the darkest shadows ripple like water. A massive clawed hand reaches out and grips the earth, scoring it, and moves as though to lift itself from below the ground. But instead what comes out is you, for a moment draped completely in shadow, your form barely perceptible against the deep darkness.

> You can see Linnae is, while not in their typical form, in no immediate danger. And you must pay your ferryman.

> Your hand did not come with you as you climbed out of the abyssal dark. Black blood oozes from the stump, or perhaps it isn’t gone at all, and it’s only the sparse light playing tricks...

> ...By the time you straighten and the scant starlight hits you, your hand appears as it always did, gloved and unharmed. The shadows fade to the normal darkness of night as the shadow demon retreats; It cannot spend long on this brightly-lit plane.

“...Linnae. Are you hurt?”

@raitrolling

[ardynzunia]

"And in this hypothetical scenario, I still wouldn't let you date him!"

Arctus laughs.

"In this future scenario, me dating him might be the reason he introduces me," He teases.

[aetherderius]

#100 Arctus

Type: Ice Species: Frosty Pious Pokemon

Occasionally when exploring the Isles, you may find a group called Zealots and their loyal Arctus. These pious polar pokemon pray potently…and believe that the Mad God dons a mortal form to walk amongst us. Isn't that cute.

[xinghai]

Inktober day 20 Too far gone

[morihaus]

Betrayal

Waves splash against the rocky shores of Betony as a small ship rows into port. The docks of Whitefort town are quiet in the dying light of the evening, busied only by sailors and dockworkers as they fix ships to the moorings and ferry cargo about, hurrying to get their work over with so they might retire for the night. There are few people, and of them, the lone passenger of the sailboat blends into the crowd, steel boots stepping onto the dock, cowl held close around her head.

She keeps her head down, not attracting any attention as she takes a circuitous path around the shipyard, pausing only to spare a glance over her shoulder every now and then. It's not her first time here, and she knows where she is going- the grand Imperial ship affixed to the far dock lies foreboding in the corner of her vision- but even miles from the mainland of High Rock or Hammerfell, she feels eyes all over her, grasping hands reaching out for her. She's walking into a pair of them right now.

It's with this note of fatalism that she climbs aboard the Imperial galley, its captain waits for her at a table on the deck, seated warmly in her fine Skyrim furs. Lady Brisienna Magnessen smiles cordially, cheeks rosy, but not bothered by the winter chill as her visitor is, letting her fair hair curl down her shoulders without hat or hood.

"Agent Delarda," She greets her with a refined tone, coarse Nordic tongue dipped in honey, smoothed and shaped to suit the needs of an inter-provincial operative. "Please, take a seat. Let's conclude this as quickly as possible."

Against her better judgement, the agent sits down. Her amber eyes, sitting in dark circles, peer out at the Nord from under her hood. "They know." She says flatly, her voice quiet and weak for the first words she's spoken in days. "Gothryd, Eadwyre, Athoriki, Gortwog-" She slings her pack down one shoulder and reaches inside, producing several written correspondences. She sets them on the table in front of her, unsealed, slightly crumpled. She looks down at them now, rather than Brisienna. "Even Mannimarco, and the Underking. They know, and they want it. They're making offers now. I'm not sure how long they'll wait for me to make up my mind."

Brisienna takes a letter into her deft hands, unfurling it and scanning it over.

Arduirel- code name Delarda- lets her hands lie limp on the table, numb with cold and nerves.

After a minute or so, the Lady speaks up. "They're making quite the hefty offers for it."

"You believe them?" Arduirel says.

Brisienna looks half-insulted. "No," She shakes her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if any or all of them were lying. All that gold, those artifacts, nothing but bait."

"Should I assume the Emperor was lying as well?" She says curtly, still not meeting her eye.

Brisienna purses her lips some, but reaches over into her own pack, producing a small jewelry box. She places it on the table, turning it to her fellow agent. "The Warlock's Ring, as promised. Feel free to check. I wouldn't lie to you."

Arduirel's ears burn under her hood at that. Still, she reaches forward, unlatching the tiny chest and taking a peek at the ring inside. Gold-banded, covered in ancient runes, inlaid with a dazzling red gemstone. She closes it, satisfied with its authenticity, more or less. She looks back up at Lady Magnessen, who peers expectantly at the elf.

"The Emperor has been planning this reward for some time, Delarda. Your efforts, both here and in years previous, are greatly appreciated." For a moment Arduirel looks and only sees a mouthpiece, a puppet; she wonders whether Uriel said any such thing, whether these words were really his, or mere lip service from the Nord woman. She's sick to her stomach either way, not helped by the gentle rocking of the boat in the harbor.

"...I'm curious. What would the other rulers have done with... the Totem." She asks, quite aware of the fact she's expected to be taking it out by now. She doesn't want to touch it, to let it be seen by anyone. Her whole body feels wired, jittery, as though the other agent were about to make a desperate lunge for her pack.

It doesn't come to pass, though, Lady Magnessen remains seated, glancing down once again at the letters on the table. "Nothing good." She shuffles them around, laying one on top of the other, leafing through the names on the pages and thinking on what she knows of the Illiac's politics. "No doubt Daggerfall, Wayrest, and Sentinel would use the Numidium in their petty war games. Perhaps they would even realize the extent of its capabilities- they could undermine the whole of the Empire with this power." Arduirel feels a chill as she speaks. She wonders what Brisienna knows about Numidium. How much does the Emperor know about Numidium? The Nord frowns as she continues to speculate. "Orsinium would no doubt crush its age-old enemies, claim all of Wrothgar for the Orcs, maybe beyond. I cannot begin to wonder at what nefarious end the King of Worms has in mind... he claims he wants godhood?"

Arduirel gives a shallow nod.

Brisienna shakes her head. "By the Nine, what a travesty that would be..."

"Could that even work?"

"If what we are led to believe about big Numidium is true, it very well could. It could be as easy as it plucking him from this world and placing him high up in the heavens." There's an attempted humor to what she says, but Arduirel can only fight to keep up a veneer of composure.

"Is that what Tiber Septim did?" She blurts out.

Brisienna gives her a judgemental stare. "Is that... what? What are you talking about, Delarda?"

Arduirel clenches her fist, grinding her teeth together for a moment. "I just mean-" She looks out into the horizon, the now black sky meeting the edge of the water. "He became a Divine. He also used the Numidium. Is that related? Is Mannimarco trying to do what he did?"

Without looking, she feels the icy stare of her superior. She lets out a sigh. "Tiber Septim didn't become Talos through some... automaton. He was always Talos-" She trails off, shaking her head. "We can discuss theology when you're back in Cyrodiil, Delarda. You have the Totem, don't you?"

"Yes." She quickly replies.

"Where is it?"

Arduirel looks back at her. Brisienna's face is creased with irritation- she knows a diversion tactic when she sees it, she's starting to wise up to what's going on here.

"What is the Emperor going to do with it?" Arduirel asks.

Brisienna pauses. Arduirel stares and picks her apart with her eyes, trying to figure out what she knows. "That's none of your concern, agent." She replies with a blunt, forceful tone. "Just know that he's the only one who can be trusted with it. These petty kings will rip each other- and the Empire- apart in their bickering, and those undead sorcerers will only do the same. This thing belongs in the hands of an Emperor, a Septim, not some pack of quarreling insubordinates."

Her words hang in the air, burning against Arduirel's ears like the cold night air. Her hands begin to shiver. "The last Septim who got his hands on it..." She furrows her brow, glaring from under her hood at the Nord. "The Underking, he's Zurin Arctus, Tiber Septim's battlemage. He claims to have made the thing- that the Mantella is his heart, and that Septim used the thing to conquer all of Tamriel, to destroy all his opponents, to replace all royals with those who would swear loyalty to him." Brisienna tries to get a word in, but Arduirel plows on ahead. "And when he disagreed with this use of the Numidium, Septim fought with him, and both he and his creation were destroyed." She produces another letter from her person, one she hadn't intended on sharing. "This says that the Blades have been gathering parts of the Numidium for centuries- what is the meaning of this??? To what end does it serve???"

Brisienna leans in with a dour expression. "You take the word of a rotting, undead wizard over mine? Over the word of the Emperor?"

Arduirel stands up with a start, frost crackles in her palm as she glares down at the Nord, who reaches for her blade. "What is he planning!? Why reassemble it?! Why use it now??"

"Delarda, stand down!" Brisienna barks out the order with her sword leveled in the elf's direction. "Think for a second! If you don't relinquish the Totem, you'll be branded as a traitor to the Empire of Tamriel- you'll have one more agency hunting you down, is that what you want!?"

"I am NOT giving you the Totem! I won't let this happen again!" Before Brisienna can even question her, Arduirel shoots an ice spike into her chest. She staggers back as it pierces a rib, she wheels back her sword-arm before another spike finds its way into the hinge of her elbow, icing the joint over and sinking deep into her tissue. She cries out in pain before Arduirel charges into her, bashing her off the side of the ship with a forceful elbow to her collar.

The Nord falls into the icy water, right arm stiff and inflexible, lungs pierced by a spike through her ribs. She cries out at Arduirel- "YOU CANNOT DO THIS!" But a torrent of frost is already firing down at her, freezing the water she's fighting against, encasing her in a thick sheet of ice. Her body temperature drops rapidly, she trembles and struggles as her muscles grow stiff and weak.

The small block of ice containing her body floats out into sea. The Agent absconds with the Warlock's Ring and the Totem, forcing her way through the confused crowd and boarding someone else's ship, pushing it out to sea with the force of her magic, arrows from the guards loosing in her wake as they piece together that she had something to do with this.

It doesn't matter. The Emperor will not get the Totem. As soon as she's out of sight from the isle, she makes course for the east, for Hammerfell, as a traitor to the Empire. Her true colors are finally revealed. It's exhilarating. It's sickening. It's the only way to avoid another Summurset.

[raitrolling]

👀 Linnae?

=> You're currently cleaning all the pots and utensils that were used for your dinner tonight. You still don't have it in you to hunt for your own food, but you've been shown how to preserve meat in the snow and then cure it with salt so that you can make the most of what is given to you by Arctus. The meals you make are fairly rudimentary, but it's enough to keep you going while you're alone for a night or two at a time. At first you were anxious at the thought of being left on your own, but after the first few successful nights you've been feeling more confident that you can handle yourself.

=> You've been learning some new applications for your magic as well. Melting ice so that you can wash the dishes, purifying river water so it's safe to drink, drawing water out of your clothes to dry them off and warm yourself up quicker, and dehydrating strips of meat to make jerky. You seem to have the best grasp on your magic if you can figure out a practical use for it, which is also helping your problem solving skills.

[crystalxcrowned]

So for years I have always pondered on the ‘Atmos, world of a thousand mountain top kingdoms’. I’ve always wanted to create a map of Atmos—and I may in the future—with all the terra continents on. But for now, more for the fandom’s enjoyment and use, I’ve collected a number of terra names that could be potentially used for fanfiction stories, character creations and origins, and potentially used for naming these 1000 mountain top kingdoms. Most of these words are Latin origin and have beautiful sky/weather/element meanings. For example; A personal terra I use in my OCs background is Terra Sol, Sol is Latin for Sun - This is a name for a dusty, hot, exotic, desert based terra.

Terra Caelum - Caelum is Latin for sky, heaven; air, climate, weather; (figurative) height of success, glory.

Terra Astrum - Asturm is Latin for star, heavenly body, constellation; a great height; heaven, immortality, glory.

Terra Sol - Sol is Latin for sun; sunlight, sun's heat; (poetry) day; (myth) Sun god.

Terra Aeris - Aeris is Latin for air; weather; mist.

Terra Aura - Aura is Latin for breath of air, breeze, wind; air, upper world; vapor, odor, sound, gleam.

Terra Ventus - Ventus is Latin for Wind, breeze.

Terra Nubes - Nubes is Latin for cloud (figurative) gloom; (figurative) veil.

Terra Imber - Imber is Latin for rain, heavy shower; water; (figurative) stream, shower.

Terra Aestus - Aestus is Latin for heat, tide, wave, storm.

Terra Nox - Nox is Latin for Night.

Terra Umbra - Umbra is Latin for Shade, Shadow.

Terra Polus - Polus is Latin for (m.) pole of the earth, sky.

Terra Cinis - Cinis is Latin for ash, ashes.

Terra Mare - Mare is Latin for sea.

Terra Aecor - Aecor is Latin for ocean, plain, sea.

Terra Ferrum - Ferrum is Latin for Iron, Sword.

Terra Silva - Silva is Latin for Forest, Woodland.

Terra Tempestas - Tenpestas is Latin for tempest, storm, weather, season, time, period.

Terra Veris - Veris is Latin for spring, summertime.

Terra Arvum - Arvum is Latin for (n.) arable land, a ploughed field, a sown field.

Terra Saltus - Saltus is Latin for (m.) forest, woodland with glades; a narrow pass, ravine.

Terra Miles - Miles is Latin for soldier, knight, soldiery, combatant, warrior, infantryman.

Terra Avis - Avis is Latin for bird, bird of omen, omen, sign.

Terra Crystallum - Crystallum is Latin for crystal, crystal drinking cup.

Terra Ignis - Ignis is Latin for Fire, light, heat, flame, conflagration, beacon.

Terra Fulmen - Fulmen is Latin for Thunderbolt, bolt, Lightning, stroke of lightening, flash, sudden disaster.

Terra Lapis - Lapis is Latin for checkpoint, Stone, milestone, dool, pole, waymark.

Terra Sidus - Sidus is Latin for star, rainy weather, constellation, season, Land, region.

Terra Lumen - Lumen is Latin for light, glimmer, bright, glim, shine, star.

Terra Somnus - Somnus is Latin for sleep, slumbers, drowsiness, drowse, night.

Terra Arctus - Arctus is Latin for night, the great bear constellation, the little bear constellation.

Terra Collis - Collis is Latin for hill, heights, mount, height, mountain, knoll.

Terra Nimbus - Nimbus is Latin for cloud, storm cloud, storm of rain, cloud of smoke, rain-cloud, loud of dust.

Terra Aes - Aes is Latin for bronze, Ore, copper, metal, things made of copper.

Terra Ros - Ros is Latin for dew, moisture, clamminess, damp, dampness, water.

Terra Nix - Nix is Latin for snow, accumulated snows.

Terra Crustallos - Crustallos is Latin for ice, rock crystal, crystal-ware.

Enjoy!

[eyeofapocrypha]

Chapter 3: Dispositions

Master Arctus said:

1. The moment to prepare your offense is the moment the enemy becomes vulnerable to attack.

Leros Chael: Knowledge of the enemy mage's mind is of the foremost importance. Once you know his mind, you will know his weaknesses.

Sedd Mar: Master Arctus advised Tiber Septim before the battle of Five Bridges not to commit his reserves until the enemy was victorious. Tiber Septim said, "If the enemy is already victorious, what use committing the reserve?" To which Master Arctus replied, "Only in victory will the enemy be vulnerable to defeat." Tiber Septim went on to rout an enemy army twice the size of his.

2. The enemy's vulnerability may be his strongest point; your weakness may enable you to strike the decisive blow.

Marandro Ur: In the wars between the Nords and the Chimer, the Nord shamans invariably used their mastery of the winds to call down storms before battle to confuse and dismay the Chimer warriors. One day, a clever Chimer sorcerer conjured up an ice demon and commanded him to hide in the rocks near the rear of the Chimer army. When the Nords called down the storms as usual, the Chimer warriors began to waver. But the ice demon rose up as the storm struck, and the Chimer turned in fear from what they believed was a Nord demon and charged into the enemy line, less afraid of the storm than of the demon. The Nords, expecting the Chimer to flee as usual, were caught off guard when the Chimer attacked out of the midst of the storm. The Chimer were victorious that day.

3. When planning a campaign, take account of both the arcane and the mundane. The skillful battlemage ensures that they are in balance; a weight lifted by one hand is heavier than two weights lifted by both hands.

4. When the arcane and mundane are in balance, the army will move effortlessly, like a swinging door on well-oiled hinges. When they are out of balance, the army will be like a three-legged dog, with one leg always dragging in the dust.

5. Thus when the army strikes a blow, it will be like a thunderclap out of a cloudless sky. The best victories are those unforeseen by the enemy, but obvious to everyone afterwards.

6. The skillful battlemage ensures that the enemy is already defeated before the battle begins. A close-fought battle is to be avoided; the fortunes of war may turn aside the most powerful sorcery, and courage may undo the best-laid plans. Instead, win your victory ahead of time. When the enemy knows he is defeated before the battle begins, you may not need to fight.

7. Victory in battle is only the least kind of victory. Victory without battle is the acme of skill.

8. Conserving your power is another key to victory. Putting forth your strength to win a battle is no demonstration of skill. This is what we call tactics, the least form of the art of war magic.

Thulidden dir'Tharkun: By 'tactics', Master Arctus includes all the common battle magics. These are only the first steps in an understanding of war magic. Any hedge mage can burn up his enemies with fire. Destroying the enemy is the last resort of the skillful battlemage.

9. The battle is only a leaf on the tree; if a leaf falls, does the tree die? But when a branch is lopped off, the tree is weakened; when the trunk is girdled, the tree is doomed.

10. If you plan your dispositions well, your victories will seem easy and you will win no acclaim. If you plan your dispositions poorly, your victories will seem difficult, and your fame will be widespread.

Marandro Sul: Those commonly believed to be the greatest practitioners of war magic are almost always those with the least skill. The true masters are not known to the multitude.

- The Art of War Magic by Zurin Arctus, with Commentary By Other Learned Masters

[goddesstrolls]

Out of Hive and Home

Previous: Comforts of Hive

((Another collab with @nihils-trolls))

It was a nagging feeling in the back of Arctus’ mind. Something about Quilis’ sudden drop off the face of the planet didn’t sit right.

Though he had declined an invitation to her hive once before- Simply because he liked to be found indoors the least amount possible- The fact that he was theoretically welcome sat alongside her disappearance.

He lay a hand on the doorknob of the broom closet in the shop. He didn’t need to have seen the location he wished to go; The shop needed only the vaguest of concepts, and it would choose a location on its own to drop him. Normally, he only wanted to go somewhere remote, somewhere cold, and so on.

Arctus opened the door. Rather than a broom closet, beyond the frame was grass and tree-spotted hills. He peered through, finding a veritable castle crouched on the hill, old stone and gothic architecture. 

He’d trust that the shop had indeed brought him to Quilis’ hive. It knew her, after all. 

He stepped out into the moonlight. There was a dark rectangle in the shape of a doorway behind him, providing a view back into the shop. He reached back inside to shut the door, the doorway vanishing entirely as it was shut. It left nothing behind but thin air, and a cold autumn breeze.

Arctus turned, and strode up to the hive, seeking an entrance. Wondering if he should try to find something like a front door. He’d only just gotten close when he caught wind of something.

Something was not right. Arctus curled his lip in disgust, a low growl escaping him with his breath rolling away in a cloud of fog on the wind. He was now glad he had decided to visit.

The Something was so closely aligned with his own elements, a being of the shadow plane- That he could determine the hold it had over the hive right away. A sensation in his chest, a resonant frequency from the foul energy radiating off the hive. He decided not to bother with finding a front door, nor with any modicum of manners. If Quilis had brought this thing upon herself, he would have a word with her; If it had found her, perhaps even through him, then he had rid her of it.

He found a door and opened it. Beyond was a long, stretching hallway that seemed to keep getting longer as he watched. The walls were striped in purple and white, almost the texture of nylon canvas. At the end, a light shone through the crack of a doorway.

Arctus bared his teeth, growling to himself again as he stepped inside. He made his way down the hall, making no effort to conceal the growing shadow of his presence. Darkness against darkness, it wouldn’t surprise him if The Something did not notice him or even, foolishly, deigned not to bother with him in favor of toying with Quilis.

This particular variety of demon fed off of fear, warping an enclosed space- Such as a hive- Into scenes that would deeply frighten its prey. If Quilis had been here since he last heard from her, her willpower had to be waning very thin by now.

He bit the finger of one of his gloves to pull it off and then sunk his claws into his own chest, leaving deep gouges oozing black blood. Tiny, blobby creatures, each no larger than a coin, and dozens of them, sprang from the wounds. His snake tattoos fled from his skin, pulling away and dropping to the ground, suddenly solid. Arctus flicked the blood from his claws, creating more of the shadowy creatures. The blobby creatures and snakes skittered away from where he walked, seeping through shadows to reach other parts of the hive. 

He reached the end of the hall and pulled open the door, finding a spacious circus ring beyond. Faceless trolls jeered and laughed from the stands, moving jerkily as though in stop-motion. The sound of the crowd was strange and discordant, like the approximation of something that had never heard it before. 

Arctus’ gaze flicked about for some sign of an exit from here. The spotlight swung, following a troll on a trapeze high above. They flew from the bar, posing gracefully in the air; For a beautiful moment hanging in the void as though hovering before falling straight down and splatting directly against the circus floor.

Arctus ignored this vision entirely, moving through the ring to an entryway on the other side; More shadowy creatures pushed their way from the wounds on his chest, scuttling away as though their tiny lives depended on it.

The tunnel led to a set of stairs leading upwards, dimly lit with some lights flickering faintly. A short flight- at the top of the landing stood wide double doors, having ornate steel trimming. 

Arctus made his way up them without hesitation, and pushed open the doors.

Beyond was a sheer drop, at least seventy feet. Glancing around, several sets of impossible stairways sprawled onwards and upwards- moving slowly to different doors like clockwork. Faceless paintings of unknown trolls in finery decorated the walls.

He huffed in annoyance; Some of his shadows had already made their way through here and gone through some of the doors, narrowing his options; He picked one that he thought he could just barely jump to.

Arctus leapt without much deliberation. He just barely grabbed the ledge, boots thudding against the wall with no foothold. At the same time, however, a long, shadowy hand darted through the doorway, grabbing Arctus and pulling him up. Kneeling, Arctus looked to a puddle of darkness as the hand retracted into it. 

“Thank you.” He said, putting a hand to the wound on his chest to siphon away some of his blood and plunging his hand into the pool. Something within the pool gave a raspy gurgle in thanks, and Arctus straightened to continue.

The room before him seemed to be a concert hall. He stood at the top of another landing, two stairways on the left and right lead downwards to a checker-tiled floor. In the center of the space below was an elaborate grand piano, alone with a bench. Further beyond that, another set of similar looking doors to the ones behind him.

Arctus moved down the stairs and across the checkerboard floor, the piano holding his attention for a moment; It wasn’t part of The Something’s illusions.

He returned his attention to the doors and opened them.

—--------

Quilis sat huddled in a corner, doing her best to avoid looking at any of the mirrors that lined the walls and ceiling. She had sat down and decided not to leave, unable to really find it within her to go on just yet. From somewhere around the corner, she heard the sounds of a crowd. Sometimes echoing laughter, sometimes blood-curdling screams. 

Every now and then she’d look up to make sure nothing had changed- seeing reflections of people she once knew. Nothing ever did before; but this time, some… inky black blob scuttles over to her. At first, she considered squishing it as it ‘waved.’ Though, something made her refrain from doing so.

More began to crawl in from out of seemingly nowhere, bouncing around on the floor while she looked on- a bit confused. A wild change from previous illusions, if it was one. Although, a sudden, loud clatter of the door snaps her out of her confusion- drawing her wary attention.

Arctus stood at the door, his attention snapping to her nearly immediately. Blood black as ink soaked the front of his shirt from gouges in his chest. Ignoring the mirrors, he made a beeline for Quilis and dropped into a kneel near her.

She pressed her back against the wall behind her, as if trying to retreat somewhat. 

Arctus tilted his head to peer at her from under the shadows of his hat, the ghost of some mixture of wariness and concern lacing his otherwise neutral expression. He shooed away the black blobs with a wave of his hand, before addressing her.

“Are you alright, Quilis?”

She glances away at the blobs for a moment, then turns it back to Arctus. “I’m trying to figure out how much of this is real,” she states- clearly tired.

“I am real,” Arctus replied, though he knew well enough that she couldn’t trust his word. “As is my blood.” He gestured vaguely at the retreating blobs, and then cast a disdainful gaze at the rest of the room. “This- An illusion of the fearmonger. I will send you away from here.” Arctus brought his hand to his mouth to sink his fangs into his palm- Not daring to draw a dagger when Quilis was so wary.

She scrubs her face with her hands and sighs. “H-hold on just a sec, I was…” She pauses a moment, brushing her bangs back. “I was in the middle ‘f something. Well, more almost done with it, to be honest.”

Rummaging through the pocket on her sweater briefly, she then pulls out a folded piece of paper. Opening it up, she then slams it against the wall next to her- the paper burning away to leave behind an engraved magic circle.

Arctus watched, and stared for a moment at the circle, reading the magic within it. A spell to lock the hive, and prevent it from shifting further.

Then, his head snapped up, like some unheard sound drew his attention. He stared off down the hall for several moments, and then narrowed his eyes.

“It seems I’ve been noticed.” He said, and then made to straighten. He held out his hand to help Quilis to her feet.

She eyes him for a moment, then accepts the help to stand, though wincing briefly. “I have one more to place… somewhere around here. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Let us make haste then, and finish this.” Arctus glanced away again, eyes still narrowed, though his exact feelings were difficult to read. 

“Agreed,” she says, turning to head where the hallway bends. At the end lies yet another door, presumably leading to more of the maze that now makes up her hive.

Pushing it open reveals another steep drop- Quilis looks down to see the circus ring from before. Before her lies a small platform with a tightrope high above the ‘crowd’ below, leading to another door. Grumbling some, she steps out without much hesitation.

Arctus, having followed, stepped through the door and took a look at the tightrope spanning the distance to the other doorway. He watched Quilis cross the tightrope with no issue with a blank look.

As sudden as a light turning off, pitch blackness spread from behind Arctus and enveloped the room. Nothing could be seen of him, or the illusionary ‘crowd’ below- Such a deep darkness that if Quilis held her hand in front of her face, she wouldn’t have been able to see it.

It was gone as suddenly as it appeared, and Arctus was standing on the other side next to her.

She blinks at him for a second, but continues through. Quil now stands in what looks like her old parlor, the piano nowhere to be found however. She pulls out one last sheet of paper from her pocket, and slams that against the wall much like the last.

Moving into the center of the space, she peels back the rug to expose the hardwood beneath, then feels around in her pocket again- hoping to find something to write with.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself. “Thought I had more on me.”

Pausing a moment to think, she kneels down and rolls up her sleeve. Quilis takes a breath and bites into her arm, drawing purple blood. She spreads it across her hand and begins weaving the final piece of the ritual- an overly complex design. Just to be safe. 

Finally, she places her hand in the center of it all- leaving behind a print to finish it off. The circle in front suddenly glows brightly, along with the one on the wall behind the two of them. Several echoing, loud clanks and thuds reverberate through the hive, signaling the success of the spell.

Arctus’ gaze flicked between the glowing circles, and then he lifted his head at the series of distant thuds and clamor. His gaze returned to Quilis as he waited for her next move.

“Wish I could be of more help,” she speaks up, “-but I think that’s all I’ve got in me for now.”

Arctus made to move past her, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder as he passed. “It’s a wonder you still have your sanity. You’ve done more than enough.” He turned his gaze to the doorway ahead, narrowing his eyes. “I will handle the fearmonger.”

With the hive no longer shifting, Arctus could locate its presence far easier. He continued into the next room, darkness following him as he blotted out every light, passing through walls where there wasn’t an endless void between them. 

One of his blood-blobs had found the fearmonger earlier, alerting it to his presence- And it had moved rooms after quashing his scout, perhaps the smartest move it had made thus far. 

But now, it could run, but there was nowhere to hide. Arctus stalked the halls freely, until he entered the final room where the being waited.

It was an enclosed darkness, featureless yet somehow walled. As though part of the room, the being waited, a formless mass of eyes and mouths full of teeth. 

Baring his own teeth, Arctus overtook the enclosed darkness with his own magic. He forced the space into an open, endless void of nothingness, leaving the demon with nothing to hold onto. As it flailed, he advanced on it.

It tried in vain to flee as Arctus lashed out. It squirmed under his grip as he dragged it closer. 

Arctus parted his jaws wide, and ate the fearmonger whole.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

☕️ Arctus, talk about Linnae and how their apprenticeship is going?

"...They are doing well. Better than I had anticipated, subconsciously so. They have the makings of a fine mage, a precious thing in these nights."

"I will no doubt be lost during their long lifetime, but I hope that I will be able to see them come fully into their own and surpass me. How strange it is, to realize that I have never regarded the future with such fondness as I now do."

"These things change a man. Fool that I am I had hardly considered it; I wondered if I would have declined out of fear, then..."

[ardynzunia]

"Prompto li..." Well, was it his place to say? At least Prompto got to go to a nice school. Still, that was all. Noctis crossed his arms. "Well- What do you even mean by that? You think I care about stupid stuff like where someone was born or where they live? You think I'm that kind of person? I know you aren't. I know if you were in my place, with my experiences... you'd still be you. So, how can you even say that? If you think that badly of me..."

"I didn't say it would be because of you," Arctus gently assured him. "More that the nature of the city means we wouldn't have opportunities to meet. Especially since I'm older than you and wouldn't have been in the same school. Not to mention the council and lesser nobility blocking people from interacting with you or dad. It isn't you, it's the system around you."

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

Ilya

The heavy boots treaded through the mud and snow, Her fingers wrapped around her spear as she glanced behind her with cold blue eyes and whistling sharply; Her lungs forcing the sound to overpower the icy wind that blew by; kicking the snow around in a haze.  The white dog racing through, joining her side.

"Sneh rra'li, Asrnoil." "Stay close, Arctus."

Her tongue was ancient. The language she spoke was dead in the other corners of the world but she didn't know that... She didn't know anywhere but this icy island she called home; The sea was frozen for miles... Those who tried to see beyond it usually weren't seen again.  The majority of them did not believe there was anything else... Ilya, She believed there had to be more out there. Her believe solidified by the debris;  The wind and water would bring things to the island; Flags and bottles, trash.   And as much as she wanted to go beyond; She knew she had to stay... These men were useless. Her ice-blue eyes watching as they argued; None of them wanted to be the first one to go up to the monster ahead of them; Where it came from? They didn't know... It wasn't natural. The dark energy coming off it made Ilya's skin crawl and Arctus had acted weird since it arrived.   Arctus barked loudly at it;  Snarling.  ilya nodding in agreement as she twisted the spear in her hand, glancing at the men.

"Ca'zesvl." "Cowards."

She spat at them as she shoved past the two men in her path; Arctus following closely behind,  The beast was drawn already by Arctus's growls; bearing its teeth as it snarled loudly. Its eyes, red, several of them glaring back at her as it's weight caused the ice to crack, its claws were so sharp it was able to sink right through the ice without hardly any effort.   Ilya didn't even hesitate as she snarled right back at the monster, twisting her spear and shoving it into its chest; the black blood oozing out and melting right through the ice as she used her spear; lifting herself up and with the momentum of the beast's movement flinging herself onto it's back, pulling her daggers; One was sharpened stone, wrapped in leather to protect her hand. The second one was a gift the water brought her;  They'd never seen anything like it; A hard and cold metal blade, sharper than the stone, sharper than the ice.    The name of it wasn't known by her village or how it was created. Many believed it was a gift from the gods. Ilya had found it and claimed it as her own and it convinced her of another civilization; If only they could leave this damned island... The others didn't believe in her concept of using wood to create something that would float them out onto the water; even getting to the water's edge was hazardous;  Many died long before they made it to the edges of the island to see beyond it.

Her daggers slid through the monster's spine, forcing them deep as she could with one smooth blow, holding onto them as it thrashed and crashed through the ice, she held on as the cold water surrounded her as the beast pulled them back up; gasping for air sharply as she pulled the blade out, stabbing into it again and again.

Arctus snarled, chasing after the two and leaping up, grabbing onto the spear with a tight firm bite, pulling it out before circling around the monster again; biting its legs and clawing at it.

The beast kept thrashing around trying to get Ilya off it's back; She fell off but slammed her blade into its side, holding on firmly as it slid to a stop on the ice; Ilya pulling herself back up as she grabbed her steel blade; running up the monster's back and slamming it down into its skull with all her strength; it was enough to at least drop the beast as she fell to the ground with it; grabbing its neck and pulling it back as she slit it's throat, lingering until it stopped moving and letting out a chilled sigh, sliding off and starting to remove her soaking wet furs, dropping them on the floor and shivering a little as the cold air hit her damp cold skin, gritting her teeth.

She retrieved her spear after replacing her daggers at her side, kneeling down as she embraced Arctus, petting him slowly, wiping the blood from his white fur as she smiled faintly...A grimace on her lips as she glanced back at the hunters who'd come out here with her; that sat on the sidelines... She snarled, Her brow knitted as she stormed towards them and shoving them out of the way as she started back to the village; ignoring the bitter cold on her shoulders.

[xinghai]

🖊

Arctus and emotions

(I’m not 100% sure how to explain this one, so I’m sorry if it’s a little choppy ;;)

An ice-dragon demi-god from my Percy Jackson/middle school days. He’s very winter-themed and enjoys basically all things cold-related (because of course he does). 

Arctus’ main conflict is is connecting with other people. This challenge is, in no small part, because of his apathetic demeanor. He experiences physical signs of emotions, such as a racing heart or tightening of the chest, but there is a divide between that and his experience of emotions psychologically. Displaying emotion doesn’t come naturally to him, and so it just seems like he doesn’t have them. He’s learned to imitate/express the appropriate emotion for a given situation, but it can come off as awkward and forced.

The rift between him and others is exacerbated by his inability to touch others, due to his frigid body temperature. It’s cold enough to burn, and others feel like fire to him too. 

Despite this disconnect, he has a strong caring for others, and he’s extremely loyal to those few who he grows close with. 

[killer-carl]

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