#balan (in spirit)

[pawsometoons]

This is (not) the end...

[actual-bill-potts]

I’ll second that Finrod’s hunting trip with Maedhros and Maglor ficlet ask, if that one resonated at all with you (if it didn’t, please just disregard this haha). I’d be really curious to see what you did with that!

Many thanks to you and @melestasflight for the wonderful prompt! This fic fought me every step of the way, but I'm at least reasonably happy with it, so I'm just going to go ahead and post it. I hope you enjoy!!

By the time he reached Himring, Finrod was weary to his bones.

He had set out from Nargothrond to visit Doriath; since being allowed back beyond the threshold of the fenced realm, he had made the journey as often as he could spare the time. He yet had hope that Thingol and his Queen could be softened towards the rest of the Noldor, and in any case his sister and her betrothed dwelt there, and he missed her company and wisdom dearly. 

Often Finrod found nothing but peace and joy in the court of Doriath, for despite his grudge against the Noldor Thingol was kind and wise in the ways of the forest, Melian was generous with counsel and teaching, and their daughter Lúthien - now nearly full-grown - loved to hear about Nargothrond, and told him in return many merry stories of her latest escapades. 

But this visit had brought dark tidings, and with it concern for his cousins in the North. It seemed that strange creatures had been sighted north and east of Doriath, and that some had managed to make it nearly past the Girdle by some yet-unknown sorcery. None knew what type of beast they were, exactly, only that several of the outermost marchwardens had been found with their throats torn out, and survivors with little memory of the events besides shining green eyes and a sense of dread. 

"I recalled all of my guards immediately further within the Girdle, of course," Thingol had said, "for my lady wife assured me that nothing has passed fully through, and that they cannot match her power."

Finrod had made a bow towards Melian, but then said, "my King, would it not be worthwhile to take a company out beyond the Girdle, and hunt down these things? I myself would be more than happy to assist or even to lead the effort, if it would be of use - those beyond your borders may not yet be aware of the threat -"

Thingol’s face had darkened. "You will not lead any of the Sindar into danger!" he had snapped, before softening his tone. "You are valiant, nephew, and I do not fault your softness of heart - but beyond our realm are those who slaughtered my kin and burned the works of their hands. I will not spend the lives of my people in defense of such, when without loss we may remain in safety here. I advise you to do the same, until the danger is passed," he had added; but Finrod had refused as politely as he could, and left that day to ride to Himlad. 

He was sick at heart, for if the knowledge of such danger to the Noldor who dwelt by his borders would not move Thingol, what would? He was reminded forcibly of the tensions of his childhood: Vanya in face, Noldo in body, followed by whispers no matter where he went; expected to laugh at Noldor gaudiness in Alqualondë and Telerin flightiness in Tirion. This was the same, but deadly serious, and he did not know how to resolve it; he had not been able to gracefully walk that line even in Aman, and now so many lives rode on his ability to do so here. Even Galadriel was no help, for she had thoroughly repudiated her Fëanorian cousins and advised him to do the same. She had been born late, long after everyone but the twins, and so did not have many memories to set against the terrible sight of blood on sand and distant flame. She had not grown up with Maglor as a merry third in her games; she had not gone running to Maedhros for advice or comfort; she had never seen the expression of mingled joy and desolation upon Finwë’s face when he looked at Celegorm, the child who in face and body was Míriel come to life. 

Pursued by such dark thoughts, Finrod had made his way quickly to Himlad, where he found Celegorm and Curufin away at Amon Ereb. He had warned their seneschal of the tidings from Doriath, and without stopping had gone on to Himring. After all, if anyone would have an idea as to the identity of Morgoth’s new creatures, it would be Maedhros.

Now Finrod sat in the great keep of Himring with Maedhros and Maglor - who was, apparently, visiting; so social, the Fëanorians! - weary and heartsick.

"These are ill tidings, Cousin," Maglor said at last, "and we will arrange a hunt for these beasts as soon as we may. The power to nearly breach the Girdle: that is alarming indeed. For now, though, you should rest and eat. I’m sure Maedhros has a room prepared for you already; we sighted you several hours ago - Maedhros?"

Maedhros’ face was set, and his eyes were flaming. "Eyes of emerald, and terrible teeth…I know these beasts of yours, Cousin. They are nauror: gaurhothrim, it would be in Sindarin." He turned to Finrod, and Finrod nearly shrank back, so terrible was his expression. "He - Sauron - took fëar and forced them into the bodies of great starving wolves, with green eyes that screamed without sound. They had the power of untethered spirits, though they were bound to such terrible forms, and they could do - things -" he broke off, breathing heavily.

Maglor’s face was pale, but he asked, "Why then have we not encountered them long since?"

Maedhros laughed. It was not a happy sound. "They died, over and over. Fëar cannot escape Angband; but they revolted against their forms so wholly that the wolf-shapes were rent asunder, and the spirit left in tatters. Hardly useful. Sauron used to -" he pressed his lips together and did not continue.

"Then - these creatures are Eldar," Finrod said faintly.

"Aye. But slaying them will be no evil, if I am right," Maedhros said. "Death is the kindest gift in our power to offer."

He stood. "But my brother was right, earlier," he said, and it seemed that the great flame in his eyes was banked as he turned again to Finrod. The granite lines of his face softened near-imperceptibly. "You are weary, and I have had a room prepared. Go rest. You are welcome to join us in the great hall for dinner, or to send for a meal to your room, whichever seems best to you. I will leave at first light with my brother and a company of warriors. I advise you to delay your departure until our return, but if you must go, tell me and I will arrange for an escort."

"No - I wish to come with you!" Finrod protested. "I would not have my cousins ride into danger without me."

"Thingol’s reaction, should the King of Nargothrond fall in our company, does not bear thinking about," Maedhros said wryly. "It would not be wise."

Finrod set his jaw. "I can help," he said, and found he meant it. The thought of a spirit tethered so cruelly smote his heart. "I have learned much of songcraft from Melian the Maia: songs that can counter the necromancy of Sauron. Perhaps I can - at least ease the passing of these creatures."

"I sing, also," Maglor observed with a trace of humor, "and have faced the fruits of Sauron’s labors before, if in lesser bodies."

"Two voices will be better than one, surely," Finrod countered. He looked at Maedhros. "Please, allow me to accompany you."

Maedhros looked at him for a long moment. "Very well, Cousin," he said at last, "if only because I suspect it would be difficult to prevent you from following. You have the kindest heart of us all, I deem; and perhaps you will be able to do these nauror some mercy. I do not have it in me. We leave at dawn; be ready."

"If you find yourself too weary, do not come!" Maglor added. His sharp face was full of concern. "None will hold it against you."

"Thank you," Finrod said. He smiled at his cousins. "I will not let you down."

The next morning, refreshed in body if troubled in mind, Finrod rose before dawn and was ready in the courtyard when Maedhros and Maglor emerged. They were in light armor and leathers, as he was; and they were followed by a dozen grim-faced Elves. 

Maedhros nodded at him; Maglor said, "Good morning!" and even offered a smile.

Finrod smiled back.

"I have procured a horse for you," Maglor said, gesturing to a beautiful roan he held beside the one he rode. "Your own horse needed more than a night of rest."

"Aye," Finrod agreed. "I thank you." He approached and stroked the mare’s nose. She whickered a greeting in return, and nosed his hair. "What is her name?"

"She is called Hirfindë," Maglor replied, laughing a little, "for as a filly she had a terrible habit of chewing on one’s tresses, no matter how tightly plaited."

Finrod looked down in some alarm; but Hirfindë was only sniffing, not chewing. "You have grown out of that habit, I trust?" he said aloud to her in amusement.

She whuffed, as if to say, of course.

There was a general rush of mounting and a flurry of orders from Maedhros; then the company passed through the great gate of Himring, going south and west towards Doriath.

The first day passed without event; Finrod strained all of his senses, but could not detect even a trace of the wrongness that signaled creations of their Enemy. By their expressions of frustration, Maedhros and Maglor did not have better luck. They did not stop that night, picking their way softly by the light of the stars; and by late afternoon of the second day they picked up a trail. The horses became nervous, shying at nothing; and sharp-eyed Maglor spotted the faint outline of a paw in the grass. But even without those signs, Finrod would have known that the creature was near. Despair was in the air. It was so thick he could nearly taste it, and had to set his will to prevent dark dreams from flashing before his waking eyes. I am sorry, he thought sadly to the creature, we will release you, if we can.

But despite the miasma that could be sensed by everyone in the party, the nauro - or nauror, Finrod supposed - proved elusive. The second day and night passed without success. Maedhros rode stone-faced at the head of their party, responding to Maglor’s tentative conversational sallies in monosyllables at best; Finrod tried to engage the rest of their party in conversation, but the other Elves were quiet and withdrawn, and in truth he himself found that talking sapped his energy more than he was accustomed to. The air felt heavy and filthy in his lungs.

But on the third day, they ran the creature to ground.

Maedhros was the first to spot it, of course: as the horizon faded from gold to blue at the start of the day, he sat forward suddenly and said: "There."

Finrod followed his gaze and caught the barest flash of grey bristle between trees.

"It will flee from us, I expect," Maedhros said, signaling for speed, "Its self-preservation instincts will be strong. We must run it to ground."

As he leaned forward to keep pace with his cousins, Finrod wondered for a moment why the creature was not stalking them in turn; then he remembered what Maedhros had said of the nauror in Himring, and felt abruptly sick. Doubtless any spirit successfully tethered in such a way would have had to be - warped, or changed, such that survival of the body became paramount over all other considerations. And indeed it continued to flee from them, until in the early afternoon they ran it to ground.

The first sign of such was Maedhros’ abrupt, "It is nearing the end of its strength; be wary." A short minute after, Finrod could sense it for himself: a thickening of the poison in the air, a sudden sense of weariness that dragged at his limbs. There was a stench, too, so close. Old sweat, rotting meat, traces of filth: the scent of a creature that did not wash itself, and cared for nothing but its own ravenous hunger. 

Mingled pity and revulsion welled up in Finrod’s breast; he felt nauseous. By their expressions, Maedhros and Maglor’s chosen hunters were not doing much better. Maedhros and Maglor themselves were twin walls of impassivity, though if Finrod looked closely he could see faint lines of worry about Maglor’s mouth. 

Following the smell, the sound of the nauro could be heard: it was crashing through underbrush, growling low in its throat.

As one, the hunters drew their bows.  Maglor in the lead dropped back to Finrod, for their role would be as Singers only. Finrod tensed, every nerve alight with anticipation as he scanned the brush for the source of the heaving breathless growl - there! A flash of green in the shadows! - a hail of arrows whistled through the air and the terrible eyes winked out for a moment - then suddenly the Wolf with three arrows in its throat leaped upon Maedhros with a terrible gurgling roar. Elf and nauro rolled together from Maedhros’ horse, landing heavily upon the ground. Maedhros had his dagger out and was slashing grimly at the Wolf’s head with his left arm; his stump was driven into the nauro’s neck, forcing its jaws backwards. The creature was tearing up great clods of earth with its claws in its frenzy to get to Maedhros; the hunters had swords in hand and were approaching with faces set.

"Hold!" Maglor cried suddenly from behind, a clarion that filled Finrod’s ears and slowed everyone for a moment, even the Wolf, "I will Sing! Hold!"

He began a Song of sleep, which dragged Finrod’s eyelids down despite the warning. With an effort he shook himself and saw the archers about him doing the same. Only Maedhros seemed unaffected, grimly holding the Wolf off. Its struggles slowed slightly as Maglor sang, and Maedhros flipped it onto its back and plunged his dagger into its head.

Still it would not die, though it was bleeding from half-a-dozen arrow wounds and should have been killed instantly at Maedhros’ last blow. It whined once, short and sharp, and flung itself again onto Maedhros. 

Watching it, Finrod felt sorrow well up in his throat. He thought of the Quendi who had loved their freedom under the stars, and found as their reward servitude without end to a cruel master. A song came unbidden to his lips: a song of traps broken, chains wrenched apart, the empty shackle upon Thangorodrim. After a moment he heard Maglor’s voice join with his own, deeper and more resonant.

The Wolf stood stock-still, panting terribly, its blood dripping to the ground; then as Finrod kept singing with Maglor, it wavered  visibly and finally lowered to the ground. It was breathing heavily now, the sounds of an animal wounded to the death. For a moment it seemed to Finrod as if the nauro had two sets of eyes, one green and one silver; the green wolf-eyes were confused and terribly hungry, the silver eyes heavy with sadness and a relief so profound it was almost a pain of its own.

As they dimmed, both terrible eyes met his, and suddenly it seemed to Finrod that the Wolf spoke with a voice of spirit: well-met, master of illusions. Your teeth are sharp and your nails long. I thank you, freedom-bringer; and I am sorry.

Finrod blinked - master of illusions? - and suddenly in the time between one blink and the next he Saw -

eyes that were weary as the Eldar were never weary, looking into his own with love that seemed rooted in the very earth -

laughing beside a fire, with the owner of those selfsame eyes, the giggles and shrieks of children at play in the background: so many children! He had never seen so many even in Aman -

nut-brown locks and a bitter mouth, spitting wisdom angrily -

The same bitter mouth, now framed by white hair, hurling insults with fondness behind them -

Mud in his hair and his ears, caking his clothes, deep spreading pain in his shoulder and wetness following, creeping dread chased away by the low sound of horns that were familiar yet strange -

Dark stone, and chains, and green eyes that glittered feverishly in the dark, and his head resting on wasted legs as the breath whistled strangely from his chest -

Finrod came back to himself with a ragged gasp. He felt a shift in the air, a barrier melting away, and there was only a dead animal on the ground.

He had to go East. He felt it, the call of the vision. It could not be gainsaid, terrible as it was - and the love in those old-young eyes - and so many children -

Maedhros picked himself up off the ground and approached. "My thanks, Cousin!" he said, almost smiling. "Your skill with Song has grown greatly since last I heard you."

Finrod inclined his head and smiled in return. "Thank you for allowing me to accompany you," he said warmly. "But I fear I must depart."

"So soon!" Maglor exclaimed. "Why? There may be more of those creatures roaming about, and you must let us treat you to a full supper back at Himring -"

"Maglor makes very free with my hospitality," Maedhros interjected, "but he is quite right about the danger, and about the dinner too. What is the matter?"

"You needn’t worry," Finrod said almost gaily, "But no gaurhoth shall touch me yet. It is not my fate. I must go East," he added more soberly. "I have Seen it."

His cousins continued to protest; but he held firm, and at the last they yielded and sent him on his way with his borrowed mare, all the provisions they could spare, and kind words aplenty. He directed Hirfindë due East, and gave her her head. 

Out in the open, wind against his face, cousins receding rapidly into the background, he was not sure whether to laugh or cry. Such a fate - such a fate! The joy - the love - the children! Not his own, but they loved him, and he them: he had felt it. 

But no light at the last! It was terrible. Could anything be worth the creeping hopelessness he had felt, in the last seconds of the vision? He could turn around, go back to his cousins, leave Fate alone in the East. Perhaps she would not call a second time, and he could go forth in hope to an unknown ending.

But those eyes! He had never seen anything like those eyes! And the children!

"I will go, Hirfindë," he said aloud. "I cannot do otherwise."

As he rode towards Ossiriand, he thought he heard snatches of song on the wind: too deep to be Elvish, too fair to be Orcish, in a tongue he did not know. Who was singing? Such joy, in the bitter East!

He raised his own voice in answer.

[aishutoon]

You guys ever have that issue where you’ve got a bunch of au ideas and you have no idea which one to start talking about?

Well, I decided to let you guys decide which au to start with using a poll!

Some info about each au:

Sonic generations Linked Au: An au of sonic generations where when the time eater shows up and messes up time, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Amy have to team up with their classic selves to find both the time stones and the chaos emeralds in order to fix everything. The time stones are used to free Sonic’s friends and create portals into locations from the past, but the catch is that using them attracts the time eater. The chaos emeralds can be used to repel and later fight back against the time eater, but they got scattered throughout time and space when the time eater attacked Sonic’s birthday party.

Ace attorney dual destinies rewrite: a rewrite where Phoenix got his attorney’s badge back, but is reluctant to use it due to a fear of messing things up again. The fact that the legal system has deteriorated to a point where one case caused everyone to start rioting doesn’t help. Clay and pearl show up earlier in the story, Klavier has a bigger role in the Themis case, and overall there’s a little more emotional weight in some scenes.

Ace attorney spirit of justice rewrite: Ok, this one is where things are WAY more different. After Phoenix tells Apollo and Trucy the truth about their heritage, both of them are furious and want to confront Lamiroir for trying to keep that a secret for much longer. There’s just one problem: Lamoroir is taking a break from performing and went to the place where she met the man that she truly loved: Khura’in. With this in mind, and knowing that he can’t really stop them, Phoenix sends Apollo and Trucy to where Maya is staying in Khura’in so that they can find Lamiroir, and they get caught up in what’s going on with the legal system over there. In the meantime, Dhurke comes to the states to look for Apollo and the Orb, and ended up finding Phoenix, who is not very happy to see him. While Trucy and Apollo are investigating in Khura’in, Dhurke and Phoenix investigate in Kurain village, with the help of Pearl.

Sonic forces rewrite: (I know there are so many sonic forces rewrites out there already, but I might as well throw my hat into the ring) A rewrite where classic sonic isn’t there, and the phantom ruby incident happened when sonic and the others were younger. When Eggman digs through his old files and finds some notes on the phantom ruby, he decides to give it another shot, this time with a live host. When Infinite attacks and knocks out sonic, Tails tries to carry him out of there, but gets knocked out in the process. Flash forward a few months, Eggman is in the process of taking over the world, and the resistance is fighting back with three leaders: Knuckles, Amy, and Tails. When Infinite attacks the custom character (Rookie), Tails is the one who saves him and leads him to the resistance. Also, Tails has a little wisp friend with him. When they hear a rumor that Sonic is alive in one of Eggman’s prisons, Tails and the Rookie have to work together in order to find him while also freeing places and people from Eggman’s control. In the meantime, from Sonic’s perspective, he has to find a way to break out of the prison and find out how to stop the phantom ruby in its new form, but infinite’s illusions and a speed limiter they put on him will make things even more difficult.

Balan Wonderworld Rewrite: Less of a rewrite and more of a complete rehaul of the story, but without changing the characters. Their motivations on the other hand… (I know a lot of people hate the game, I’m not the biggest fan of it either, but I liked the idea of it). The main gist of the story is that the protagonist has to go on a journey to patch up their “heart” as Balan calls it, and in order to get there, they have to assist Balan in helping other people first (I know that’s a vague explanation, but I feel like it would be easier to show in comic form than like this…)

[autisticfoxgirl333]

Ok guys!

I'm honestly not good with headcanons but i will try my VERY best to do it so sorry if it's not good. So here it is!

Random Headcanons for Fictional Characters!

-Balan and Lance are brothers in my opinion.

-Fecto Elfilis is a good cook.

-Moonlight, Sea Fairy, Fire Spirit, and Wind Archer are good friends in my opinion.

[sundove88]

Tangled (Sundove88’s Version) Casting

Beautiful Princess Lucy Wong has been locked away in a tower since she was captured as a baby by an old evil Queen. Her magical red hair has the power to provide eternal youth, and the evil Queen uses this power to keep her young. At the age of 18, Lucy becomes curious about the outside world, and when a chess player uses her tower as a refuge, she asks him to help her escape.

Lucy Wong as Rapunzel (Balan Wonderworld)

Cal Suresh as Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert (Balan Wonderworld)

Spirit as Maximus (Spirit Stallion of The Cimarron)

Inkabelle as Pascal (Balan Wonderworld)

Ghirahim and Yuga as The Stabbington Brothers (The Legend of Zelda)

The Evil Queen as Mother Gothel (Ever After High)

Mephisto as King Frederick (Suite PreCure)

Aphrodite as Queen Arianna (Suite PreCure)

Ako/Cure Muse as Herself/Rapunzel’s Little Sister (Suite PreCure)

Waddle Dees as The Royal Guards (Kirby)

Waddle Doo as The Captain of The Guards (Kirby)

Poison Mushroom Cookie as Shorty (Cookie Run)

Wolf as Attila (Star Fox)

Galacta Knight as Vladmir (Kirby)

Tingle as Big Nose (The Legend of Zelda)

Captain Fishook as Hook Hand (Luigi’s Mansion 3)

Various Characters as The Pub Thugs

Bonus:

Raven Queen as Cassandra (Ever After High)

Here’s your hint for the next Casting:

🚗⏰🎸

[evil788]

Here’s your dose of a balan wonderworld meme

[inkabelledesigns]

Art Fight 2024: Part 4 (The Variety Pack)

This is where everyone else goes that doesn't fit cleanly into my other categories. XD We have some nice variety! Fallen London, Final Fantasy, Balan Wonderworld, genre fantasy, bugs, mutants, just great stuff all around. My friends have such fantastic OCs, I'm forever in awe of your design skills and storytelling.

Jiago and Quilliam @ollietreetime

Apus https://x.com/TK_RaccoonVA

Spectre Crypt @spirited-spider

Sven @stopboorider

Samuel @shazzbaa

Rick @metallicartist

Alexander @korvanta

[kayssweetdreams]

The Perfect Finale Ch66

Meanwhile, Back with the Inhabitants...

After saving their Negabosses from potentially becoming the next tests in Yin's plan, the inhabitants went to go and find to find the others (who they hoped took care of Yin and Prim). At the same time, they were explaining to the Negabosses just HOW they obtained Maestro abilities. "So, The spirit of Yang appeared, Used the heart, that Kaylo STILL has, and just gave you maestro powers?" Hooverton asked.

"That pretty much explains a lot. I mean, we really haven't given it much thought." Fiona said. However, the Negabosses then bombarded them with different questions. "Did you really see Yang?! What was she like? Did she really have a flower crown made with Wonderworld flowers? Was she kind and wise? Were there little costumes, Negati and Tims in her hair? Was her hair really like a nest? Did she smell like pure happiness?!" They asked. The inhabitants leaned back at their enthusiasm "Erm...well...we didn't have enough time to see (or smell...) But if she appears again, we'll ask as well." Cal said.

Disappointed, but understanding, the group pressed onwards, running through the town until they met up with Mei, Rebecca, Trisha Jane, Aria, Lora Jade and Kaylo, who were currently keeping a struggling Yin from escaping. The Negabosses shivered at the sight of Yin, but this time were relieved that something of (somewhat) equal power was keeping him from destroying them. However, this didn't mean that they were still scared of Yin.

The red maestro wriggled in the grasp of Lora Jade, "YOU PATHETIC HACK! GET YOUR FILTHY HAIR OFF ME!!" Yin screamed. Lora Jade just narrowed her eyes at him "Hush Yin. This is a battle that you won't win." She snarked, making Yin growl at her and struggle even more. "Hey...where are Balan and Lance? I mean considering that Yin took their power." Worville asked. "They're with Emma and Leo, taking care of Yin's machine." Jett said, as he was still giving Prim a beat down.

This made Yin even MORE mad as he struggled harder in Lora Jade's grasp "KEEP THOSE REPLACEMENTS AWAY FROM MY PURIFIER!!" He yelled. Mei however stared Yin dead in the eye "You already caused enough problems in your wake. And who knows what more you'll make. The mess that you caused is becoming too great. And if not fixed, both worlds will suffer a terrible fate." She said. Unfortunately, Yin wasn't phased by her words. He instead turned his attention elsewhere, before letting out a loud whistle, that made everyone cover their ears.

"What was that supposed to do? Was that some kind of trick from you?" Attilio asked. But he was cut off when Trisha Jane slapped a hand on his mouth, and then repositioned his head to turn around, and everyone paled at what they saw...surrounding them all was Yin's entire costume army, eyes narrowed at them. "Costumes! Your maestro needs you! DESTROY THEM!!" Yin yelled.

And the Costumes all glared at them...with murderous intent.

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

Lora Jade belongs to @alex-frostwalker

Jett belongs to @jettthespeeddemon

[etymology-of-the-emblem]

The Demonic References in the Loptr Church

Befitting the cult of the dark god Loptous, many members of the Loptr Church, particularly those in Chapters 10 and Endgame of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War take their names from grimoires of demonology and the occult.

Beginning with the sect's archbishop, Manfroy (JP: マンフロイ; rōmaji: manfuroi) gets his name from legends regarding Manfred of Sicily, son of Emperor Frederick II. On page 436 of Jacques Collin de Plancy's Dictionnaire Infernal is a section dedicated to Mainfroi, which claims that following his excommunication by Pope Innocent IV, Manfred studied magic and alchemy, all while communing with demons. This was largely based on a similar passage on page 303 of Pierre Le Loyer's Histoire des spectres et apparitions des esprits, which instead refers to Manfred as Manfroy. Rumors of King Manfred's deal with the devil would go on to inspire Lord Byron's Manfred, a poem telling of a noble convening with dark spirits to erase his memory of a lost lover - a sentiment based on his own failed marriage and an affair with his half-sister Augusta Leigh. The wiping of memories seemingly influenced Manfroy's act of erasing those of Deirdre, while the topic of incest likely served as a basis for the conception of Loptous' vessel.

Moving on, Zagam (JP: ザガム; rōmaji: zagamu) is the Loptrian stationed over Miletos Castle. He is named after Zagam, attested on page 711 of Dictionnaire Infernal as a Great King and President of Hell, sourced from Johann Weyer's Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, where he is instead called Zagan. The name Zagan would also be used in the later-released Ars Goetia, part of the Lesser Key of Solomon. Most mentions of Zagan claim that he could turn wine or oil into blood, and could transmute water into wine and vice versa.

Juphiel (JP: ユフィール; rōmaji: yufīru) is a Loptrian bishop defending Edda dukedom. His name comes from Uphir, a demon seemingly first mentioned in Dictionnaire Infernal on page 674. He is said to be a chemist who maintains the health of Beelzebub and the other high-ranked demons of Hell.

Dagon (JP: ダゴン; rōmaji: dagon) is a Loptrian bishop that protects Dozel Castle. His name comes from Dagon, described in Dictionnaire Infernal on page 194. But before this, Dagon, also called Dagan, was an ancient Syrian god of prosperity, kingship, and the father of many other gods. Dagan was also said to guarantee a successful grain harvest. First attestations of Dagon as a demonic entity began with the texts of the Old Testament, which claimed the Philistines to have worshiped the god above all others. De Plancy would expand Dagon's role among other demons, interpreting him to be the Great Baker of Hell - likely based on his association with grain.

Lastly is Baran (JP: バラン; rōmaji: baran), who serves to stop Seliph's army at Friege. He is named after Balan, covered on pages 76 and 77 of Dictionnaire Infernal. In other texts like the Ars Goetia, he is instead called Balam or Balaam. He is said to be a three-headed demon who responds to questions with perfect answers, whether it be about the past, present, or future. The name Balaam comes from a magician in the Old Testament, who told the Moabite king Balak how to make the Israelites sin, leading to punishment upon them by God.

Saving the most speculative for last, Veld is a high-stationed bishop of the Loptr Church who carries out Manfroy's orders throughout the Munster District. The name seemingly comes from the Old Norse veld, appropriately meaning "I rule over; I am the cause of".

In Japanese, Veld's name is written ベルド (rōmaji: berudo). It is possible that the name is a greatly truncated form of ベルゼビュート (rōmaji: beruzebyūto), Belzébuth, a French name for the Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub. Similarly to Dagon, some of the earliest mentions of Beelzebub come from the Old Testament, where he was a god of the Philistines. The Testament of Solomon would go on to assert that this was but another name for Lucifer. Other sources interpret the two as separate, however. On pages 89 and 90 of Dictionnaire Infernal, Belzébuth is claimed to be the prince of demons, the absolute leader of Hell, and second in power and wickedness only to Satan himself. For "Manfroy's Rock" and seemingly the second most powerful member of the Loptrian Order behind the archbishop to be named after Beelzebub would be rather appropriate, though the connection is certainly a stretch.

[gardensofthemoon]

44, Finrod and beor :3

44 - out of lust. prompt list here

At first there was a voice. Lush, lilting, melodious. It sang of unspoken dreams, unconquered lands, of kinship and love and hope.

He woke up from his slumber well rested, his heart thrumming with joy for the wonders of the world.

Then, there he was, sat near the hearth, fine-boned hands strumming the cords of a great harp. His voice rose, powerful as a river tumbling down from the frozen crests of the mountains, piercing as an arrow caught in flight. It seemed as if the land itself awakened to the spell woven by the singer, roots curling towards the figure, green leaves budding from dark, dead branches into a symphony of spring.

Balan looked at the golden being that had appeared as a spirit amid the bedrolls of his people. He looked, and couldn’t look away.

The creature, he thought, must have been one of the elder gods of the stories spun by the wise women of his village. A divine being from the unseen realms across the sea. He was singing in an ancient tongue, but Balan found he understood the calling. Come, the singer said. Come with me, and fear not, I will show you the way. Golden-haired he was, and fairer than any living man or maiden his eyes had ever happened upon. His bearing and manner had such grace that he hadn’t encountered before, and he was cloaked in finery befitting of a king, gold glinting on his fingers and gems gleaming around the long lines of his throat.

Balan felt a tug in the pit of his stomach, twisting.

“Who are you?” he croaked. He was the first to speak; the rest of his fellows were silent, as in a trance.

The being met his eyes, and a strange frisson coursed through Balan, he felt like sinking into a frozen lake; the eyes of the golden creature were brightly burning with a fey fire.

The stranger smiled, and Balan knew he was lost.

—

“My king,” Balan said in the dream. “Let me offer you my love.”

He dreamt of the elven lord each night. Of the unparalleled beauty of the golden king, of the curve of his mouth, of the dance of his fingers upon the harp. Of his voice, as a thousand songbirds singing, as lightning breaking upon the heavens. Of burning.

The tales had spread silently, legends of great warriors fighting against the dark foe in this new realm called Beleriand. They told of tall kings and fair faces and eyes lit by unearthly flames that speared human hearts with their strange glow. Of beings that knew no death but the one brought by blade. They told of enchantments, and of songs of such power no mortal dared sing.

Balan knew himself bespelled. It could not be helped. He walked in the shadow of the golden king wanting to touch that which was eternal. A man untouched by rot, more beautiful than the sun in the sky.

He wanted him. He wanted the king, and he dreamt of him.

During the long hours of the night, deep in slumber, he saw the king smiling. The fire swallowed him, burned inside him, lit the pyre of desire inside his belly.

In his dreams, he dared to touch the elf, and as passion surged he grabbed with unworthy hands the marmorean face and kissed the smiling mouth of the king. In his dreams, the golden being remembered his name.

Yet in the waking world, the king called him vassal.

[actual-bill-potts]

Thanks @eilinelsghost for enabling me

Balan held on. By his fingernails, somehow, and his teeth if necessary. It was odd, because he was fairly sure most of his teeth had been gone by the time he died, but here they were back, and if they’d help him hold on then by all the gods he’d use them.

You must go, a hooded and cloaked figure had said when he first arrived. You do not belong here. Námo, he had realized with cold shock, the Doomsman of the Valar. He who had cursed Finrod.

Bright rage had flowed through his body then (so frail just a moment ago, and the juxtaposition between memory and feeling near made him fall over before mastering himself). "I will not leave until I see Nóm again."

Who? The tolling voice of Námo sounded almost puzzled, for a moment. Then the air seemed to clear. Oh. Him.

"Yes," Balan spat, "he whom you doomed."

He did that himself, Námo said, voice falling wearily like the pounding of great stones upon the earth.

Balan decided not to argue the point. "I won’t leave," he said. "I promised."

The feeling of a sigh seemed to manifest in the air around him. And what of your first wife, who has gone beyond the veil of Arda?

A pang. Esrid. To see her again, after all this time -

But Finrod had wept. Finrod had begged him not to leave, to stay for but another hour, another minute -

And Balan had left him.

"Esrid is gone indeed, beyond the world," he said, "but Nóm lives still. I will not leave him."

You must, said Námo - but was there hesitation in his voice?

There was.

Balan smiled to himself. "I will not leave," he said. "You do not command my fate. You cannot force me."

Námo inclined his great head. It will hurt, he warned. My halls are not made for mortals.

"I don’t care," Balan said.

The feeling of weariness, of great age, in the air intensified. Very well, Námo said, but neither can I help you.

"I don’t care," Balan had said again; but his heart misgave him. Finrod might live for a thousand years more. A thousand years, alone in the dark. He could not do it. He was not made for it.

Well, might as well try anyway, he told himself, and anyway I made a promise.

It was cold and dark for a long time then, and he was alone. He wandered in dreams, and tried to cling to happy memories: Baran and Belen, laid in his arms. Baran climbing a tree, eyes alight with happiness; Belen sat by the fire, eyes shining and far away.

Balan could see, as if from very far away, the shining motion of spirits through and out of Mandos. He wondered absently if anyone he knew was in that great procession; then decided it was not worth the risk to ask, lest he be swept up with them.

One day (night? He was sitting in an endless dusk) his eldest son approached, spirit blazing as brightly as it ever had within his body. From far away he appeared old and worn, older than Balan had ever seen: but as he approached the years seemed to fall away, until he was again the study youth of twenty-two summers he had been when Balan departed for Nargothrond.

"Father!" he exclaimed, rushing to fling his arms around Balan; and Balan found to his surprise that he was solid enough to be embraced. "Father, it is so good to see you!"

"And it is good to see you," Balan returned, laughing and weeping at once, "my eldest, pride of my heart!"

"What are you doing here?" Baran asked when the embrace ended. "We are all going that way," and he pointed to the endless procession.

"I am waiting," Balan said.

"Oh," Baran said. His face fell. "Father, will you not come with me? I have missed you."

Balan felt as if he were being torn in two; but he had made a promise. He pulled his son close to him again.

"I must wait," he said gently. "I promised. Carry my greetings to your mother, will you? I love you, Baran."

"I will wait with you," Baran offered - but reluctantly.

Balan shook his head. "You have made no vows. My son - O my son! I am so proud of you!" He found himself weeping again. He had not remembered he could weep.

Baran’s tears were wetting his shoulder; but at last his son pulled away. "I must go," Baran said reluctantly.

"I know you must," Balan said. "Be happy, my son. Go and find light."

Baran smiled. "I will!" he said, for he was strong, and merry of heart, and after all very wise.

"Wait -" Balan said, as Baran turned away. "What news of Nóm?"

Baran turned back, briefly. "He visits us often, and plays with the children. But he grieves."

With that he was gone, and Balan was left blinking in the endless dark.

There were more, after him. Belen, soon enough; then his grandchildren, Boron and Baranor and Beldir, grown into old men whose years fell off them as they stepped into Mandos, and who shed their bodies as they stepped out of it. They recognized him, always; and he loved them, always.

"I will stay with you," offered Belen, and Belemir, and Bereg. Their high quick courage swept Balan with pride every time. His children surpassed him at every turn.

Always he shook his head. The years blurred together.

"What news of Nóm?" he asked Belegor, and Bregor, and Gilwen.

Nóm was helping rebuild their great hall, which had been destroyed in a fire that past summer; Nóm was being taught woodworking, and was comically bad at it; Nóm was visiting less, for there was trouble in the North.

He grieves for thee, they said. He grieves for thee. He grieves for thee.

The blink of an eye passed - or was it years? - and a man with Baran’s nose stumbled into view. He was bleeding badly, looking around in shock.

He - wasn’t old.

No.

As the man - Balan guessed he was one of Bregor’s children - approached, his wounds seemed to close, and he stood up straighter. Still he seemed weary and sad.

"Father?" he whispered as he passed by.

"Not your father, nor yet his father," Balan said, who after all had lived with Elves for many a year and furthermore had nothing to do in the endless dusk save amuse himself with riddles.

The man’s eyes widened. "Bëor?"

"Tis I," Balan said, "and what is your name, son?"

"I am - Barahir," the man said, and Balan felt a lurch in his stomach. But Barahir was so young! The youngest of Bregor’s children!

"There was - fire," said Barahir, seeing his look, "fire and death; and our lands are gone. My son -" he broke off. He began to weep.

Balan drew him close. "I am sorry," he breathed, "so sorry. You will see him again."

"I hope he does not suffer too much," Barahir whispered. "O Emeldir! Say not that she too has died in pain!"

"I have not met Emeldir," said Balan, "so she is not dead."

"Little comfort that is, in these times," Barahir said grimly; but his face lightened. "She led our people to safety. She is stronger than I. She will survive."

He began to move away, towards the ever-moving column of light that Balan refused to join; then he stopped as Balan said urgently, "Wait! Is Nóm - has he -"

"Nóm lives," said Barahir. "I saved his life, in fact; and he swore to me a life-debt in return."

Balan stood stunned. A life-debt? Why? They were all of them sworn to protect Nóm, as he was to protect them. Why would he…?

Barahir laughed at his expression. "That’s what I said!" he exclaimed. "But he insisted. I didn’t want to refuse. He was very badly injured. It will all come to nothing, anyway," he added wryly. "The ring he gave me is doubtless in some Orc trophy-hoard by now. More’s the pity. It was beautiful."

There was only one ring Balan had ever seen Finrod wear. "He gave you the ring of his father?" he demanded.

Barahir nodded. "He has not forgotten you," he said quietly. "I did not expect to see you here; but I am glad of it, for there are dark times coming. But my part in the story is done!" he added. "I go to await my wife and son, and see my father. I wish you joy," he added as he left.

In the retreating light of Barahir’s spirit, Balan reeled. He could near picture the scene: Finrod, wounded and tired - his heart bled to think of it - giving Barahir his father’s ring. Of course Finrod would do something foolish like that, he thought fondly, the second one of us did him the slightest favor.

He longed to see Nóm; but he hoped Finrod would survive Morgoth’s onslaught. He did not deserve to die in pain.

Balan settled himself in to wait again. He had mastered waiting by now. He laid his spirit down, gently, and closed the eyes he did not have. Let the stars he could not see wheel behind above his head; felt the soft hand of memory close in his own. There was peace in it, after all this time. But he worried. Was Nóm all right?

Suddenly behind him there came an animal cry, guttural and hoarse. Balan sat up so fast his head - which was more metaphorical than physical - spun. He whipped around as the cry came again and saw a body.

That was…not good. Wasn’t Námo supposed to take care of these things? Not let people suffer?

Balan waited a moment; but the Doomsman did not appear. The Elf - if Elf he was - was now breathing raggedly. The sound tugged at his heartstrings. When Námo still made no appearance, he sighed and approached. Perhaps he could offer comfort, before Námo came from wherever he was hiding and swept this one off to be healed.

The Elf was naked, and so thin and wasted that Balan could count every one of his ribs. His hair fell to his knees, but was so tangled and matted its color could not be seen. He was covered in blood: so much blood, Balan had never seen so much blood on a person!

He knelt beside the Elf and reached out, carefully, to touch his shoulder. "My friend," he said gently, feeling an odd stirring of familiarity and foreboding as he said the words, "can I help?"

A sharp intake of breath: and Balan knew already what he would see as the Elf forced his ruined body to turn and face him. Clear grey eyes opened wide, and Balan looked into the face of Finrod Felagund for the first time in a hundred years.

"Nóm?" he whispered, torn between furious joy and deep heartsickness. "Nóm, what happened?"

"Balan?" Finrod rasped. His eyes were filled with pain and terror. One of them was swollen nearly shut, and the left side of his face tilted oddly: something was broken in his face. "Balan, how came you here?"

"How came I - I died!" Balan said, exasperated. "And you, foolish Elf, were supposed to live! What is wrong?" He did not know what to do. He had nothing with which to bind wounds, and little skill in healing. The sight of Finrod in such pain smote his heart.

But as he continued speaking, Finrod sat up slowly and reached out a hand. It progressed hesitatingly towards Balan, inch by shaking inch; and as it extended the twisted fingers straightened, the bloodied wrist became whole, until the hand that cupped Balan’s cheek was as warm and solid as it had once been in Nargothrond.

"Bëor?" Finrod whispered. "Beyond hope I have passed - is this joy truly mine?"

"I waited for you," Balan said. "I said I wouldn’t leave you. I promised."

A sob; and suddenly Finrod was in Balan’s arms, shining and whole and weeping as if his heart would break.

[eilinelsghost]

Throwback Thursday

Tagged by @thelordofgifs to self-rec a fic at least a week year old! It's wild to me that the first four Atandil installments have already passed the year mark?! Anyway, here's a snippet from Unfriends that has a description of ósanwë that I'm still quite proud of:

“It is like any natural process. Here,” he reached out and placed his hand against Balan’s cheek, “close your eyes and then set your hand over mine. Follow what happens within your mind as you do so.” Balan hesitated for a moment, then let his eyes fall shut and raised his hand to rest tentatively over the Elf’s. He needed no injunction to note what passed within his thoughts and consequently sat in fear that the other might feel the pulse pounding through his skin. “You did not need to look to place your hand. You knew where to meet my touch by instinct. By intuition, if you will. Now move your hand forward and follow my arm to my elbow.” He did as instructed and let his fingers trace along the forearm, feeling the firm line of the radius beneath the fabric; a thin cloth, softer than any his people knew to weave, hardly a breath between the other’s skin and his. He focused to keep his breathing steady while attempting at once to observe whatever process of the mind he was meant to study. “Good. You may open your eyes,” Finrod added with a smile and lowered his arm to rest once more across his lap. “The communication of thought is, in some sense, the same action. Your instinct directs you to the touch, your fëa—your spirit—knows to follow it as your fingers knew, sightless, how to mark the line of my arm without fumbling.” He pressed harder into the other’s thought than he would ordinarily. “Can you feel that touch? Or rather, do you see the image that I’ve set?” “Yes,” Balan replied as the branches of a tall pear tree reared up through his perception with a surprising urgency. “I see a tree in flower with a low, white wall stretching behind it. The wind is blowing through its leaves.” “That is placing your hand over mine. Now follow it back toward me, if you can.” “How?” “You have allowed me in already. And a door once opened, if there is willingness on each side, sets a path either may tread. Shift your focus and reach out with intent along that path. I will not bar the way.”

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging @that-angry-noldo, @sallysavestheday, @searchingforserendipity25, @welcomingdisaster, and anyone else who wants to join!

[camelliagwerm]

Savour Its Sweet, Bloody Taste • Chapter VII

RATING: E PAIRING: Knight-Commander x Camellia ; Valerius x Camellia TAGS/CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit violence, blood & gore, cannibalism SUMMARY: everything has been set. The ritual must be done. WORD COUNT: 3,050 this chapter| 25, 587 total AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was not expecting to get another chapter done so soon, but I'm not going to question it if the muse is gracing me with its presence.

Perhaps he should have asked Greybor for advice before rushing into this, though his friend would have charged him at an extortionate rate – far more than what Balan negotiated with Camellia – especially now given his position in the Guild and the control he reportedly has over Alushinyrran society. He could hear the admonishment now – why bother with all of this fuss when a simple blade would do? You’re the richest man this side of the Eye of Dread.

He knows the answer to that rhetorical question – she is in this very room, communing with the spirit she claims will help her with the ritual, drawing on the power that flows through the ziggurat like blood through veins to bolster her magic and connection. She looks at peace, her lips moving silently as her thumb runs over the amulet that stores her voracious spirits.

Valerius wrests his gaze away from her, reaching for a tankard of wine and downs its contents in one draught, hoping to drown the doubts away, but no sooner than draining the final drop, Nenio calls to him.

“It is ready. Now, assistant, I will need your strength.”

READ ON AO3

[sundove88]

Maestro Lance (Beetlejuice Casting Parody)

After Alma Madrigal and Dru Gru die in a car accident, they find themselves stuck haunting their country residence, unable to leave the house. When the unbearable Minatos and their teen daughter Yukina buy the home, the spirits attempt to scare them away without success. Their efforts attract Lance, a rambunctious Maestro whose "help" quickly becomes dangerous for them and innocent Yukina.

Three generations of the Minato family return home to Winter River after an unexpected family tragedy. Still haunted by Maestro Lance, Yukina’s life soon gets turned upside down when her rebellious tweenage daughter discovers a mysterious portal to the afterlife. When someone says Lance’s name three times, the mischievous maestro gleefully returns to unleash his very own brand of mayhem.

In honor of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!

Lance as Beetlejuice (Balan Wonderworld)

Yukina Minato as Lydia Deetz (BanG Dream)

Okabe Rintarou as Charles Deetz (Steins;Gate)

Bayonetta as Delia Deetz (Bayonetta)

Dru as Adam Maitland (Despicable Me)

Alma Madrigal as Barbara Maitland (Encanto)

Malva as Jane Butterfield (Pokemon)

King Dedede as Otho Fenlock (Kirby)

Mama Imelda as Juno (Coco)

Canele Cookie as Maxie Dean (Cookie Run)

Millie Feuille Cookie as Sarah Dean (Cookie Run)

Starscream as Bernard (Transformers)

Mashiro Kurata as Grace (BanG Dream)

Aya Maruyama as Beryl (BanG Dream)

Byron as The Preacher (Brawl Stars)

Bruce Stone as The Janitor (Balan Wonderworld)

Lt. Surge as Road Kill Man/The Messenger (Pokemon)

Lola as Miss Argentina/The Receptionist (Brawl Stars)

Gray as Himself/Miss Argentina’s Co Star (Brawl Stars)

Shadow!Lance as Snake!Beetlejuice (Balan Wonderworld)

Colt as Harry The Hunter (Brawl Stars)

Knockout as Char Man (Transformers)

Gooey as The Minister (Kirby)

Marina Tsukishima as Magician’s Assistant (BanG Dream)

Various Characters as the Netherworld Ghosts

Yuri Brand as Astrid Deetz (Balan Wonderworld)

Sam Witwicky as Rory (Transformers)

Mistress Nine as Delores (Sailor Moon)

Ryotsu Kankichi as Wolf Jackson (Kochikame)

Anxiety as Bob (Inside Out)

Here’s your hint for the next casting (It’s Pixar):

💀🎸🥀

[searchingforserendipity25]

myths + finrod!!

thank you @that-angry-noldo! this was a very interesting combination to work with. prompt from this list.

1.

it was said of felagund that he felled a wolf with his teeth - nay, two. three, one beast with foul thick and dark as night, and one pale as the woeful face of the moon, and one grey as the waters of the sirion were grey after melkor breathed on them. 

three wolves, all three greater than any wolf ever seen by men. felagund fought them in chains, and they each bit him, yet all three did he bite ere he died, finghting them as wild things fight, turning in the ground and making claws of his ringless hands.

afterwards he went uneaten; for all three wolves stumbled away from the teeth-bared wreck of the king, and sickened and howling in the horrible dungeons of sauron died. for all knew, and know still, that elves are strange and terrible when roused, and the eyes of even the kindest among them glow in the dark like the eyes of poisonous snakes, smooth to the touch and deadly as they strike. 

2.

balan was enchanted. enthralled. these all the tribes of men that were not counted among the edain knew: the people of balan had laid down to sleep in a safe grove, and in the night a fairy had come and enthralled them.

 thereafter they did its biding always. went to the kingdoms of the spirits of the woods and the stone, and dwelt in their golden halls under the mountains hewn by the dwarves. there balan the proud, chieftain and hunter without equal, served gladly as a vassal, pouring the endless cups of endless wine that the fairy king might drink deep.

so it happened, in that strange time, when the crossing of the mountains made such a strange difference between the people of men who lingered, and the mad and hungry and ambitious ones who dared to cross.

there were emissaries of monsters walking under the high firs, in those days, and strange green fairies who strode from the failed boughs to walk upon the wavering ferns, weightless and soulless. chieftains made accords with dangerous beings for their people’s sakes, and did not dare to either lie or speak truthfully. 

a time of trickery and great deeds, with ghosts walking through the mists, and monsters sat singing in the dark. not even the great heroes of that time could escape their snares.

well they might try to escape the dark one, the killer of light, lord in the ice! well they might try, and count themselves free, and rest their heads upon the moss and the wildflowers; and still be caught by the spirits of the shining eyes, the greedy and whimsical and ever-young fairies from the west. 

they grew strange, the people of balan. their names were never one only, but many. they sent their best sons to serve and learn and worship the ways of the elves, the shining elves from the far land across the uncrossable sea: and in exchange they had safe passage and safe fields, many heads of herding cattle and new mills. 

and it was said that it was the enchantment of finrod the enthralled that lead such misfortune and grief to befall that bold line of men, and the first entwined and doomed beren one-handed with the fate of the great spirits, well-before he was born, that night when his forefather awake to a music more beautiful than the mannish heart can bear to hear. 

3. 

it is said in tírion-upon-tuna, and valimar the golden, and sea-loved alqualondë, that none of those gone beyond the sea may return unchanged. mandos may heal, and lórien may console, and estë may teach the bearing of memory; but the thing gone is not the thing returned. so it is debated by the noldor, and decreed by the vanyar, and found just in sea-loved alqualondë. 

so it goes. there is a new voice in the forests, careful, slow and then enthusiastic, lilting short inquiries of birds and deer, laying down on its belly to peer with wonder at the perseverance of a hundred tadpoles swimming on the gentle curve of a creek. the golden pollen of many flowers gathers on its hair, and arien’s light lingers resplendent upon the up-tilted face, the upturned cheeks. the air is ever so warm, in the shadows of the most beautiful trees of arda. very warm, and very alive.

is it said, and well-said, that none that return come back unchanged. yet it might be said also, of finderáto who walked down the aisle of the tree, lonesome down the pathless groves, till he heard the far voices and silver sounds of music, and running found his way to his father: there is much that remains. the revenant that returns, strange and restless, does tend to know its way home. 

[unsungtalesweek]

for this event, putting xillia as the example, i'm guessing balan, yurgen and isla, chancellor marcia and sonny, lara, and the twins nova and vera as well as the sharil siblings can be used, right? and then bisley, the former maxwell, and chronos, are too important as antagonists to be featured, much like the chimeriad. i also get that nachtigal or ivar must be the focus rather than rowen and milla respectively, and that elle, julius and fractured milla should be counted as still part of the main cast. however, my question starts with who would be defined as a minor antagonist: are gilland and victor counted or discounted? what about rideaux? as not antagonistic but still side characters, what about all the named great spirits and origin? and what about alternative versions of the characters used in crossover games, like the elle from asteria with the violet-colored eyes? thanks for answering in advance

Thank you for asking! I’ll break down everything here since it is a lot to answer! 😊

Yes, characters such as Balan, Yurgen & Isla, Chancellor Marcia & Sonny, Lara, the twin Nova & Vera, and the Sharil siblings are all allowed for this event. I would put Rideaux and Ivar in this section as they are considered minor antagonists.

Characters like Bisley, Chronos, and the Chimeriad wouldn’t be part of this event due to their status as “Major Antagonists”. I would put Victor on this list as well since he would be considered major as well.

For characters like Nachtigal and Gillandor, I wouldn’t count them for this event as well since they were major antagonists in Xillia. This would also apply to alternate versions of characters from crossover games.

I’ll explain my reasoning. Rutee & Philia are major protagonists in Destiny, but in Destiny 2, they are delegated to supporting roles. Even though they are supporting roles in a different game, they were still a main cast, so it wouldn’t be in the spirit of the event. This would also apply to characters that are different in a crossover game. For example, Ion from Tales of the Abyss and Libera from Tales of The Rays.

As for the great spirits/origin/maxwell, they will count for this event as I, myself, would consider them as supporting roles at least, even though their prominence can be more important in Xillia 2 comparative to games like Phantasia, Symphonia, ND, and others. However, spirits like Muzet or Chronos are discounted

I hope this answer your questions about the event 😊✨