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nessaiscute · 4 years

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The one you don’t expect

“Dad what are we doing here?” I asked.

“I'm taking you hunting. Stated dad as he grabbed an axe.

“Mom said i wasn’t allowed though.”

“Your mom worries too much.” Dad stated, “No ones going to hurt you.”

Ugh, why is he like this? Everyone tells me that my dad is a scary big iron knight. The winter prince who killed without any mercy, however, if you ask me? He's a mega nerd, like no lie he could only kill anyone by boring them to death by never shutting up about mom. Hasn’t he heard that winter knights are looking for him, you know dad...the people who are disgusted by you? Sneaking me out isn’t going to win you any favors, dad.

So here I am, watching my dad strap a saddle to a horse away from the prying eyes of Fix or Glitch who would go running to mom and this would all go to heck. I did really want to hunt, but I also didn’t want mom to kill me over dad getting hurt. One time dad went missing for 2 hours and mom nearly tore the whole palace apart to find him. Turns out the fool was sleeping in the dungeon because he had a headache due to too much sunlight. I wonder if mom ever regrets marrying him? He has to drive her insane.

“Ahh there we go.” Dad stated and he got on the horse, “come on son, I’ll make you a man yet.”

I’d rather be an alive man not a dead one, but i'm just a kid, no one listens to me and gods do I want to hunt. So i took my dads hand and he pulled me up and buckled me in. I warped my arms around him, although i didn’t want to admit this but there was a comfort in knowing dad was here. No matter what scary beasts or winter knights awaited us, i knew we would be alright. Dad was here. Although If he ever reads this I will deny it. Deny it to my dying breath.

“Ready?” Dad asked.

“Yea.” I started and we rode off into the forest.

I was starstruck. The forest was amazing.

I was gasping at every little thing, the huge trees and the small animals heck even the bugs. I thought about keeping a spider or two but i think mom would ground me for 2 centuries if i did that.

“Enjoying the sights, little warrior?” Dad asked grinning.

It felt a little warm all of a sudden and I puffed, “It's just… so different from the palace.”

Dad chuckled, “The forest is where fey test themselves, it's supposed to be different from a place where people of power live. But son, this place is not a place to live. It's full of danger, you must never come here without me.”

I suddenly felt… really scared, i didn’t want to go home but I felt like I didn’t belong here. Some of the larger animals noticed us, eyeing me up. Like I was a tasty steak rather than a powerful fey. I tightened my grip on my dad’s waist. Really thankful he was here with me, and praying that all those rumors about him being good at killing were true.

Dad noticed, “What's wrong? Whats scaring you?”

He followed my eyes to a troll glaring at me, dad had a glare of his own but the troll just charged at us. I shirked but dad just pulled out his bow and shot it dead between the eyes, however its head exploded and the chunks turned to solid ice, the rest of its body fell to the ground. And i loosen my grip, although my heart was still beating very hard in my chest. We stopped and I got off the horse, dad jumped off and softly pivoted me to him. Titling my head to look into his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft yet stern voice.

“Yes, I'm just…. That was scary. How did you shoot him so fast?”

There was a slight pain in his eyes, as if he was recalling something I was never meant to know, “You don’t want to ever be that good boy, now, lets set up a fire. I need to make you a bow, come over and watch.”

“Okay dad.” I beamed and dad went to work.

I was confused as to why he brought an axe till he started chopping the tree, it was so strange, I thought dad as this mega nerd. The person who literally turns into a wuss the moment mom is mad at him, however, recalling how fast dad killed that troll and watching how he takes an axe that's even bigger then I am and pounding it into this giant body of bark with ease. He looks pretty darn cool. The tree quickly fell, dad then ripped out a piece of the bark inside of the tree. Then he pulled out his bowing knife he kept on his person at all times and started forming the wood.

Dad caught my attentive stare; and he chuckled, “Not as easy to do as it looks in books isn’t it?”

“Yea, it looks really hard, don’t cut yourself dad.”

That caught him off guard, he stopped and stared at me bewild but only for a few seconds he smiled at me and said, “Don’t worry.” What's with the odd confusion? I'm just concerned.

I watched him for what felt like hours, It was art. His movements and how he knew exactly when to move his hands, I’d probably bleed out due to cutting myself a bunch of times. What is he forming anyway? I know not to ask, that would distract him and he would get mad. Although I’ve never seen my dad get mad at me before. He scolds me a little but never actually mad.However I didn’t want to start a trend, besides it was becoming clearer and clearer that he was making a bow. The wood was being molded into what dad wanted it to be, when he finished he pulled out some thick string and sowed it to the wood, he then pulled it back and let go, to see if it was working and it was.

“Get over here.” Dad said and I did.

He handed it to me, “Your first weapon, if it breaks let me know.”

I felt a thrill spike through my body, my first real weapon. A long range bow, I would snipe something from a long distance with this, Who knows what wonders I could do with it. It was very exciting to think about.

“Now, lets see if you can use it.” Ash smirked and we went to work.

We had been following a deer for a few hours, I was nervous about it. Dad didn’t notice but it seemed…. Different. I watched TV shows about deers. This one was going all over the place, like it didn’t have a mind of its own. It finally stopped, dad signaled me to raise my bow to fire. I did so.

However as I did the deer let out a roar and charged straight at Dad, knocking him down. Dad went to pull out his blade but the antlers of the deer disarmed him.

“Don’t touch my dad!!” I cried out and shot an arrow.

It was out of fear and instinct, I had never fired a weapon or deflected a blow. I was sure i missed and dad was gone, however my shot connected straight through its skull and it fell to the ground dead.

“Dad!” I cried out and ran to him.

When I got to him he wasn’t moving, and… I saw blood pouring from a wound.

“Oh no! Dad!”

“I’m fine. Son, do me a favor, go back to the camp and find the salve. Hurry boy.”

“Yes sir.” I started and I ran off.

I had to hurry, dad was dying. Dad was dying and it was my fault. I wasn’t fast enough, I found the bag fast enough and found the salve but my mind kept rushing. What if dad’s already dead? What if mom hates me for this? What if she blames me for dad's death? What if she throws me out? Throwing those thoughts out of my head I rushed towards dad.

However, he wasn’t where I left him. Gods no please no. my eyes darted around, i didn’t see him anywhere and then something grabbed me and lifted me into the air. A hand, grabbing my throat. I barely saw the armor of a winter knight, he wasn’t wearing a helmet he was grinning.

“So this is the traitor’s brat…”

“Where… is….my dad?” I growled.

“You don’t need to worry about that, You won’t live long enough to see him again.”

“Screw you! I want to see my dad!” I snarled.

That got me a punch to the gut. The pain was unreal, I had never been hit before. I spit out some blood that got on his armor. That enraged him and he pounded my body on the ground and pressed his leather boot on my head.

“You ruined my armor you brat! I'm gonna kill you even slower now!”

I felt a presence, i didn’t know where it was but i felt it creeping. And before i knew it a blade went straight through the knight's chest and he fell to the ground I looked up and there was dad. He was patched up and everything. However my brain didn’t focus on that. I started crying.

“WAHHHHHH!!” I wailed the tears falling freely from my face.

This must have puzzled dad, I couldn't help it, I was scared my head hurt and I really wanted to go home. I didn’t want mom to hate me, my body was reacting on its own. I wailed and wailed, I expected dad to hit me like the knight did.

But he didn’t.

He scooped me in his arms and held me tight.

“I’m sorry Kerrian, I'm sorry.”

The feeling of safety from earlier returned, I pressed myself to him, Softly sobbing.

“Dad…..”

He carried me to the horse and we went home.

I half expected mom to be pissed, raging, but...she was just worried. Mom knew I spit blood that I was attacked by a winter knight. Although dad didn’t say how he got cured and broke free of the winter knights that kidnapped him. However, mom also knew that I was scared of her leaving me alone because of dad. So she sent me to my room till she was ready to talk.

It was getting late, how much longer?

The door opened and mom was there. She sat next to me on the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Do you really think I prefer your father over you?”

“Not exactly, you just care for him a lot. I...i just panicked mom. I’m sorry.”

Mom then stroked my hair, smiling softly at me. I couldn't help but smile too, both my parents are really good to me.

“Kerrian, I love you just as much as I love your father. I’d never throw you out. I'd never blame you for your father's death. Although I don't like thinking about that notion it does plague me sometimes. But know this, you both mean the same to me.”

“I understand mom.”

Mom then kissed my forehead, “Good, I love you.”

“I love you too mom, and tell dad i love him too.”

Mom giggled, “I sure will, now sleep good night.”

“Good night mom.” and I fell deep into slumber feeling very lucky at my situation.

#Fall fey #iron family #for fathers day #Ash Chase #Iron fey #Julie kagawa

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erintoknow · 5 years

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the glass labyrinth

fallen hero fanfiction time; i think this clocks in at the second longest singular fanfic i’ve written oof. ~7.1k words [ao3]

this might be easier to read on AO3 where it’s broken into chapters. :v

–––

Take a breath, hold it, let it out. You are not Ariadne Becker. Not here. Not now. You are Adrestia, your suit the color of empty void reflecting no light, cape drawn tight around your shoulders further obscuring your form. Only the mirrored treatment of your helmet betrays you as still human. Still needing to see, still needing to be seen.

Your first goal is to secure the regenerator of course. The miracle device that could be your best ticket out of the mess you’ve dug yourself into. There it is, behind glass, under watchful eye. So close. Two parts to contend with. A central core housing the experimental technology and on a pedestal beside in a too-plain looking briefcase. The schematics to assemble the rest of the unit.

What will the finished product look like? Baptismal font or casket?

“Adrestia. Imagine, meeting you here.”

You turn and there’s a moment of disorientation. Since when are you as tall as Dr. Mortum? – You aren’t Jane. Mortum’s expression is cold but polite. You have to assume she knows that you know about her attempts to get Jane to quit. Her plans to do the same. What’s her play here?

You give a slight bow, and mimic the cold curtesy in her voice. “Dr. Mortum.”

“It occurs to me that this is the first we have met in person.”

You spread your arms wide, twirling your fingers. “And now we have. Am I everyth–thing you hoped for, doctor?”

There’s a brief flash of annoyance and then Mortum regains control of her poker face. “You’ve been taking good care of the armor, I see.”

“You did good w–work.”

“I… you’re welcome?” She hadn’t expected that.

Maybe you can still salvage this. Get her back on your side. You let your arms drop to your sides. “Look, I’m… sorry.”

“Sorry?” The confusion is plain in her voice. “For what?”

“I…” You laugh, then cut yourself off with a wince. The voice filter warps everything. “I th–think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Dr. Mortum’s expression hardens, her eyes narrowing. “If you’ve hurt her–”

“Her? Oh.” Shit. This might have backfired. “Doctor, I would never hurt her.”

Does she believe you? You wouldn’t, coming from someone that looks and sounds like you do. This was a mistake. Reaching out is always a mistake. When will you learn?

“So you say,” Dr Mortum confirms your fear. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” She turns away from you, slips past the gawkers come to check out the auction items ahead of time. You move to follow after her but the crowd doesn’t exactly leap out of your way.

You haven’t exactly been making friends either within Los Diablos’s self-proclaimed ‘villain’ community. Just because you’re all on the wrong side of law now… it doesn’t make you allies. And how many remember Sidestep? You’d swear you recognize a few faces, a few suits. Is that Sharkinator at the bar? You’d recognize the sharkhands anywhere. There’s a blast from the past. When did he get out of Prison?

Are you imagining the eyes burning a hole in the back of your head or are you really being watched? The Boulevard Casino is coated in the hum of telepathic dampeners, a hissing static beyond hearing. If it wasn’t for the physical proximity of the Rat-King, slipping it’s telepathic presence between you and the hum like a shield you’d already be clutching your head in a migraine by now.

Would sneaking in have been better? There’s no point wondering now. You don’t need to worry about evading cameras and security this way. Dampeners, radio jammers, cameras, good old fashioned armed men in fancy suits. Hollow Ground’s security is not messing around.

That’s fine, neither are you.

There’s a pressure on your attention, an urging from the Rat-King. You let it turn you, guide your sight. A woman moving through the crowd, tall, taller still by the antlers spiraling up from a helmet in the shape of an antelope skull. She’s armored, head to foot. Brown faux-leather, almost certainly masking proper armor underneath by the bulk of the thing. Gloved hands hide her skin. Her boots are made up to look like cloven hooves that add to her stature.

Not exactly a practical outfit.

Why is the Rat-King pushing you towards her? The dampeners prevent that. Wait, is that.. Oryx? Small time hitman. Or… hitwoman, you suppose. Was supposed to have fled town awhile ago after a job turned bad. Not that you would have had anything to do with that, of course. You don’t have the time in the day to personally meddle in everyone’s illegal business.

Something… isn’t right with her though. Her movement is… too smooth? Or not smooth enough. Like she doesn’t belong here. Is she going to be trouble? You need this to go off perfectly, you can’t afford any potential complications.

It’s not hard to pick out her path. She’s sticking to the walls, you could intercept her, pull her into an empty side-room before she reaches the auction hall.

No one even bats an eye as you step out from behind the curtain and grab Oryx by the shoulders, pull her backwards into the room. She grunts, elbows you in the stomach to get free and drops into a combat stance as you step backwards.

You raise your arms, try to control your heart rate. That snarl, the way she balances herself, positions her arms. Jesus christ, it’s Argent behind that mask isn’t it? Just your fucking luck. If she has any sanity she won’t risk a fight here. Not under Hollow Ground’s nose. “I d–don’t want a fight.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“It’s– it’s easier to to talk in private, w–wouldn’t you say…” You incline your head, exaggerating to make the gesture visible through your helmet, “Argent?” Fuck, you need to get it under the control. Adrestia can’t stutter.

There’s silence, and then Argent crosses her arms with a small laugh. “You’re always the worst.”

You put your arms down, “I’d say the same about you.”

“Well? What do you want?”

“I hope you’re not here for my sake.” What on earth is Argent doing here? Are the Rangers involved? They’re hardly at full strength, would they seriously try to bust something this big? It would be a disaster.

“What is this? Fishing for compliments?” She leans in, “You aren’t nearly that important.”

You put a hand to your chest and laugh, “You wound me.”

“Easy to do.”

You elect to ignore that, “You’re hardly the type for fancy parties. Though…” You tap the chin of your helmet, “I suppose you are better d–dressed this time?”

“Excuse me?”

“It suits you.”

Argent’s voice goes low and cold. “What does that mean.”

Shit, what do you mean? You wave a hand, “Never mind, it’s not important.” You can feel her eyes on you under the mask. “W–w–why are you here?”

Argent doesn’t move, unnaturally still. “Personal business.”

“That business is…?”

“Not yours.”

You huff. It’s an active effort to maintain eye contact even shield as you are. But you don’t dare look away. “So, then who else of your little friends are lurking around here? Who can I expect to find Ortega dressing up as?”

“I don’t need them.” Evasive, obviously, but what kind of evasive?

“Or…” You cross your arms, drum your fingers against your arm. “You don’t want them to know…?”

She shrugs, breaks eye contact. Damn, got it in one. “If you say so. What, you think you can blackmail me about it?”

“Oh, please,” You laugh, “They’d never believe me.” Argent’s already a known loose cannon. And there’s too many ‘heroic’ reasons you could trot out to excuse it. It wouldn’t even be hard.

“That’s true,” Argent shifts position, “Ortega has a lot of faith in her friends.”

You find yourself agreeing. “Too much.” Why can’t she see you for what you are? How can she want that? Care about –that–?

“Hrmm…” Argent steps closer, “must be lonely, not having a team.”

You stay put, ready for any sudden movement. “I’m better off alone.”

“Is that so?” She tilts her head down towards you.

“Other people always let you d–down,” you don’t bother trying to filtering the bitterness out of your voice. Let the distortion do that. “Even if they don’t– don’t want to.” The only person you can trust in the end is yourself. If even that.

“I’m not talking about forever,” she snorts, “just tonight. To stay out of each other’s business.”

“A t–truce?” you ask, incredulous. She seriously doesn’t want a fight then. Just what is Lady Argent doing sneaking into a black market auction hosted by the city’s criminal kingpin? What could any Ranger want here?

And how can you use this to your advantage?

“You’re seriously suggesting a truce?” You repeat.

“For now.”

Like hell are you going to let her escape your sight. “Oh r–really now?” You offer her a arm, “then let me be your escort f–for the evening.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“It’s… n–not a joke.” Your let your arm awkwardly drop.

“You’re serious.”

“Easier to–” might as well try honesty, “–to keep an eye on each other that way.”

“…fine.”

“S–so you accept?” You offer your arm again.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Argent sighs, and takes your arm. “Where are we going?”

You laugh, sharp and nervous. No idea what that sounds like on other end of the distorters. Hopefully something more confident than what you’re feeling right now. “W–w–where else would we go? The auction.”

Will you ever escape the path that was laid out for you? When you were Sidestep you fought against boosts and mods that stepped outside the law. Fought to uphold the very system that had enabled your creation and mistreatment.

Now you’re on the other side of the coin and you’re still pulling on what they taught you. Spying, lying… You let your gaze dance across the room take-in and evaluate. Who might cause trouble? Who can you push? Who to avoid? Thirteen years on and what has really changed for you?

You can never get out. Not really.

Argent stands at your side, dressed as a two-bit murder. It doesn’t seem right. You were wrong, it doesn’t suit her at all. What does she want here so badly she’d lower herself like this? The worry is wriggling like a leech at the back of your mind. At this point there’s not a lot more you can do. Either it becomes clear and you deal with it, or it doesn’t and it never matters.

What does matter is making sure no other surprises catch you unawares. Surprises like–

“Shit.” You whisper.

Argent jerks her head in your direction, shoulders tense. “What?”

No point playing this close to your chest. You had done some research via Jane and Dr. Mortum after your first encounter. Mortum had promised to look into it further once the auction was over but… This isn’t something Argent deserves to run into un-forewarned. “Over there, against the wall.” You quickly gesture with an arm, trying not to look like you’re pointing. “The woman in white and red?”

Argent shifts around to hide looking. “Yeah?”

“Shroud.”

“Who?”

“Ember’s enforcer from San Francisco.”

“Ember…” She growls. Not the reaction you had expected. You have to grab her arm to keep her still. “Stay clear of her. She touches someone, they die. Apparently.”

“Oh.” She steps back into place, looks back at you. “Thank… you…?”

What does Lord Ember want so bad he’d send risk sending one of his scariest agents away to collect it? You really hope it’s not what you’re thinking.

Who are you kidding, you’re not that lucky.

“Why warn me?” Argent stands a little too close for comfort.

“Uh…” Why did you? “Just– just because we’re enemies, it d–doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

“Hrm.” You’re not sure what to make of that, and Argent doesn’t elaborate.

“This is… awkward, r–really.” You confess.

“What?”

“Trading quips in a fight w–was easier than this.” You don’t look at her, watch the crowd, the stage. The auction is well under way at this point. Nothing particular amazing just yet. You keep an eye on the countdown timer ticking away at the corner of your Heads-Up Display. Not much longer until showtime.

She keeps shifting her weight back and forth. That’s why you don’t wear high heels to a standing event, honey. You learned that the hard way as Jane. “It’s easier to judge someone in a fight.”

You glance over at her and she freezes up. Huh. That’s a switch. “And so what’s your judgement on me, then?”

“Jury’s out.” She raises a hand as if to fling back her hair and then stops, tries to turn it into a dismissive hand gesture but there’s no saving that one. “But… I haven’t killed you yet.”

“Not for lack of trying.” You’ve had some close calls those last few fights before you buckled down on this project. God knows you’ve done enough to her, if anyone deserves first shot at taking you out, it’s Lady Argent.

“Oh please. I have been playing.”

“Why?”

Argent sighs, turns her head to focus on the stage instead of you. “I have fun, I guess.” She shrugs. “Fighting you, I mean.”

“I… huh.” If things weren’t awkward before, they are now. Hasn’t she figured it out yet? Who really possessed her? Well, you’re not about to come clean now. Not here, not when you’re so close.

Dr. Mortum’s ‘disintegration’ ray comes up on the stage next, packed into a very fancy clear case. Jane had put in some overtime helping Mortum raise money, liquidate assets, finding buyers… but did the doctor have enough? Even if she does… even at the starting bid, that’s going to hurt her.

You could – you could bid against her, drive the price up even higher. You know more or less what her limit is and you’ve got way more than that to play with. You only needed the money to get inside, she needs it to stay in business. And to potentially turn against you.

Or… or you could try to buy it for her, as a gift? The gun clearly has some sentimental value to her beyond the scientific, she’s said as much. Would gifting it help change her mind? Or would she view it as a bribe? See it for what it was: you trying to buy her respect?

The bidding slowly climbs, and Mortum stays in the game as it goes. Maybe… you should stay out of this one. There’s too many variables. Too many risks.

You’ll only step in if Mortum gets outbid. There. That’s as good a compromise as any.

The bidding ends up in a war between Mortum and woman in a business suite far in the back. You tense up, but no, the woman ultimately folds. Dr. Mortum wins her gun back at a very pretty penny. Good for her. Hopefully this won’t come back to bite you in the ass.

The countdown on your HUD chimes. Getting into the final moments now. You glance to your side to check on Argent and – she’s gone. Fuck! When did that happen? While you were focused on Mortum’s lot? Damn it. There’s no time to track her down now.

As soon as time hits zero, the bomb you rigged on the power substation for the block will go off. Power to the whole block of the city will go down. The casino is bound to have back-up generators but enough to power the whole security system? Dampeners are not energy efficient.

Looks like they’re putting the Regenerator up on stage next. Well, that’s handy. You won’t have to dig around backstage to find it then.

The Regenerator… One-of-a-kind prototype. The company responsible immediately shut-down and all their equipment confiscated. And what can it do? Perfect regeneration. The only way to remove your tattoos is to cut deep enough into the skin, practically flay yourself alive. Even if you lived, you’d be crippled, horrifically scared at best.

But with the regenerator in your hands and fully functioning…

Well, it’d be a whole lot easier than trying to overturn the United States Government.

Final count down now. Then showtime. Breath in, hold, exhale.

5…

You’re not scared. You’re Adrestia.

4…

It’s like leaning out of a window, watching the street below.

3–

A bright flash and a piercing boom rock the auction hall and the crowd cries out in a panic. Your helmet visor dims but not quick enough and the eyes hurt like hell, after images swimming across your vision. Shit! Fuck! You stumble into someone in front of you and they shove you back.

Someone else is robbing the Auction Hall?

The lights flicker overhead before staying dark, and the weight of the dampeners pressing in on you vanishes. There we go, there’s your cue. You hum a few notes under your breath as let you mind unfold, track every panicked presence huddling together. Too much light, now not enough. People are scared. Hollow Ground’s supposed to ensure a neutral territory, and yet here’s trouble.

With the Rat-King backing you up, you reach out and wrap your song around the crowd. A jangle of discordant thoughts. The Rat-King buffers you from the worst of it as you smooth out the edges, point them towards the exit. You don’t need to nudge everyone. Just the key parts and the rest will follow or be swept along.

Everyone here is a criminal, be they boost, mod, or norm. It won’t be the end of the world if it breaks down into a mass panic. But trying to keep them calm is good practice for the next time you’re faced with civilians. There’s no need to fill up any more hospitals.

Back in the physical world you slowly push your way against the flow of the crowd. Up to the stage. The emergency lighting comes on, casting the room in grim shadows. You brace yourself for any hint of the dampeners but it doesn’t come. Good, you guessed right then. Even with back-up generators, cut off from the main grid the Boulevard Casino doesn’t have enough power to handle everything.

There’s still too many people. Hardened villains thinking about how to turn the chaos to their own advantage. Is it an attack? Earthquake? Is Hollow Ground losing their touch? How can this benefit me?

You can’t risk any interference. Reach out again, second chorus, worst than the first. Reach in deeper, into the darker spaces. It’s an incoherent barrage from a dozen different traumas and the Rat–King has to pull tight around your mind to keep you from collapsing, from reeling back in shock and snapping the connection.

You can do this. Raise the conductor’s baton, pull it all forward.

Pull them out.

Get out.

Go!

Someone screams and the rest of the crowd starts to move. No calm to it now. Well, you tried. Someone shoves you aside, and oh yeah, physical bodies are still a thing. Switch to low-light vision and the visor tints everything green as you make the rest of the way to the stage. Get back in the game Chickadee.

As you’re about to climb onto the stage, the Rat King pings your attention.

“Dr. Mortum?” You move over to her, and she takes a step back, hand falls on something on her hip. Shouldn’t be surprised the doctor would have hi-tech glasses. Try to get a read on her thoughts and it’s like grasping at a nest of eels. Multiple tracks going a mile a minute. Maybe in another setting you could pry them apart, but you can’t spare the focus now.

“Adrestia.” Her voice is cold, but shaky. Putting on a mask. “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Goodness. Y–you think highly of me, don’t you?” You hold out your arms to the side, no hidden tricks up your sleeves. “What are you still d–doing here?”

She doesn’t relax. “Your little light show went off right when I was collecting my gun. I need to find it.”

“You’re serious.”

“I’m not leaving without it.” She sounds serious. Must be to have resisted your mental push both times.

You shrug, try to play off your concern. “I’ve got my own business, but if I find it… I’ll keep it safe. But it won’t be any good if its owner gets herself killed tonight.”

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” You turn away from her. “I can’t speak for anyone else though.” You can already sense them, multiple people are on the stage. Prelude to a fight. What are the odds you can grab the regenerator and slip out while they’re busy killing each other?

Ignore the eyes staring daggers into your back as you clamber onto the stage. “Ah, fuck.” There’s a stare-down going alright. Lady Argent, still in Oryx costume is standing between Shroud and… fuck, that’s one of Hollow Ground’s men. Jake Manalo? Jane’s only encountered him briefly. He’s some kind of boost but hell if anyone can give a straight answer as to what. His thoughts are fuzzy, out of focus. Shroud’s are walled, a barrier with the sensation of metal to touch. Only Argent is readable to any extent. Damn.

Try to skirt around the edge, circle back to the regenerator. Wait. Is that Mortum’s gun on the ground? Can you you grab it without being noticed… No luck. Jake spots you, hunches his shoulders. “Adrestia, come join the party. And step away from the merchandise.”

Argent glances back towards you and everything goes to hell.

Shroud makes her move, going after Argent. Argent dodges the outstretched hand, claws slicing through her gloves as she twists to strike back.

Fuck.

Dash across the stage, to grab Mortum’s gun, tossing the case aside like a candy wrapper. Mortum’s gun doesn’t actually kill people does it? It just… stores them for… later. That’s too handy an ace to ignore right now

Jake has left the two women to duel it out in order to chase after you. But whatever Jake’s got, he doesn’t have a powered suit with booster jets. You dash past him, dropping into a slide under his outstretched arm. You come to a stop by the Regenerator, spin on your heel and drop a knee. If you can take out Jake now, maybe you can abscond with the prize while the other two are duking it out.

How does this damn thing work? Hell, when was the last time you used any gun? There’s a light blinking on the side. Battery? As long as there’s enough charge for one shot. You’ll work out the rest later.

Someone off stage yells as you line up your shot. Hold your breath, sight, finger on the trigger… there’s a loud bang and every nerve in your body lights up in terror.

The gun drops out of your hands, clattering on the stage. How? Why? What is that thing doing here? Taller then any one else here, stretching its multiple arms, both organic and metallic up in the air. In the green haze of your low-light vision it could have stepped directly out of one of your nightmares, but no. Very much real. Very much alive. But… something isn’t right. The Catastrofiend’s movements are sluggish and while her skin was in never in great condition to begin with, it looks… wrong? Melted? Skin or clothing? There’s no seam.

Is… this where the Catastrofiend been all this time? Trapped in Dr. Mortum’s teleportation gun? Did she know that when she asked Jane for help in getting it back?

In the back of your mind the Rat-King screams at you to move.

Dive to the left and a blade stabs the ground where you were kneeling. Mortum’s gun rattles on the floor and you manage the presence of mind to grab hold of it again, clipping it back of your belt. In front of you, the Catastrofiend groans, a sickly bubbling sound as she clutches her vestigal human arms to her chest, her other 4 arms unfold and stretch out. Exposed muscle twining into metal, each limb ending in a long razor sharp blade. Like the rest of her, the blades are warped, discolored, wrong.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“What the fuck is this!?” Shroud yells. The Catastrofiend gurgles and turns to swipe at her. She leaps backwards, almost toppling over.

You need to get out of here.

“It’s the goddamn Catastrofiend.” Jake snarls. At the sound of his voice, the monster turns and swipes at him too. Something… happens, Jake goes blurry and the blade passes through him like air. No time to think about what that could mean.

Argent snarls, razor claws at the ready. “How the hell did it get in here?” When the Catastrofiend turns to swipe at her, she’s ready, stepping in under the arm, slashing at the skin. Something oozes out, but it doesn’t look like blood.

Is it responding to sound? Can she still see? How the hell long was it in there for? Mortum mentioned something about… quantum degradations right…? Your stomach twists. And you were seriously thinking of using it on someone?

With the Catastrofiend taking precedence, a truce seems to settle out. Jake, Argent, and Shroud triangulating. around her. You’ve seen the monster nearly come out on top against the entire Rangers team at their height before. It’s only a matter of time before they break ranks and run. You’ve seen the Catastrofiend survive being shot in the head, even as… wrong as it is, there’s no way the three of them are beating this.

This is your chance.

Two parts to the device, don’t forget. The briefcase gets attached to your suit’s utility belt next to Mortum’s gun. The prototype itself… it’s bulky, you’ll have to carry it with two hands. You wrap your song tight around yourself, willing the chaos to let you pass by unnoticed. In the back of your mind, you can feel the Rat-King echo you back, magnify the sentiment.

You get your hands under the rough metal edges and heave it into the air. Don’t look. Nothing to see here. Don’t look this way. The battle with the Catatstrofiend is way more pressing, isn’t it? Absolutely.

You don’t breath again until you’re well behind stage. A scattering of items that still haven’t been sold off remain, abandoned in the chaos. They’ll notice you’re gone eventually. But will they have the luxury to chase after you? Banking on your luck doesn’t seem like a smart move.

This part of the Casino is well beyond anything you got to scout in-person as Jane. You’ve spent plenty of time studying the schematics however. You can imagine the red line guiding you alone. Into the backstage hallway, hang a right, there’s a room here. Storage closet. Crouch down just outside and put the prototype aside.

Time to put the Nanovores to work, outstretching your hand against the floor, eating through metal supports and vinyl tiles until the indigestible remains of floor begin to fracture and give way. Slap the floor hard with your hand and it drops into something deeper below.

This part of town is shot through with old smuggling tunnels from the Prohibition era. Illegally dug little boltholes, cramped but big enough to fit crates of alcohol. Earthquake country means they’re near suicide to use. Which is why you spent over a week a making sure this tunnel would be usable.

Never let the enemy set the field if you can help it.

At the end of this tunnel is Rosie and the get-away truck. You’re almost there. you can do this.

Once the hole is sufficiently wide, you pick up the prototype. There’s noise coming from down the hallway. Pursuers or just echoing from the fight? You can’t tell. Doesn’t matter, it’s time to jump. A hole this time, not a window, but your heart leaps into your throat all the same.

Your booster jets dampen the fall, but the shock rattles up every joint along your legs regardless. The cart you had prepared ahead of time is right where you left it, save for a scattering of debris. You put the prototype down on the cart and sweep it clean in one motion.

Take a breath. Home stretch. Next step is to get to the first support joist and start the process of collapsing the tunnel behind you.

The tunnel is damp, and crowded, and dark dark dark. You tap on the clip-on flashlight on your utility belt, a tiny narrow cone cutting into the void. It’s not much but it gives your low-light vision something more to work with.

The floor is lumpy, uneven. It makes pushing the cart painfully slow and uncomfortably noisy. With more time you could have smoothed out the floor, but the time constraint on planning this operation had been absurdly tight as it was. Once your far enough away you can start collapsing the tunnel behind you and it won’t–

Scratches against stone echo behind you and the Rat-king screams for you to move. Only to flinch and clutch your head under the weight of the dampeners pressing back down on you. Something runs across your back and you stagger forwards against the handle of the cart as you cry out. Turn and catch the silhouette of Oryx’s horned mask.

“Are you k–k–kidding me–” You suck in your breath as she swipes at you again, press yourself against the wall as silver claws rend the air where you had just been. Did she cut through your suit? Everything still reads green.

There’s a snarl and you throw your heads up, “Wait, wait, hold on–” If Argent could track you down here, the rest of them can’t be too far behind. “L–let’s talk?”

Argent stares you down, your flashlight bouncing off her silver frame. Shoulders hunched, hands ready to swipe.

“We had a truce.”

She doesn’t relax, but doesn’t attack either. “Only as long as it was convenient.”

“You know w–what’s inconvenient? Getting caught.” The return of the dampeners is a significant problem as well, but Argent doesn’t need to know that one. How did they get them back on so quickly?

The tension drags out entirely too long before Argent drops her hands to her sides. “Then what are you saying?”

“If we fight here we risk them finding us, or worse, damaging this thing.” You gesture behind you. “Let’s… get out of here, then w–we can decide if we’re going to k–kill each other or whatever.”

Argent narrows her eyes, flexing her fingers. Quickest of glances behind her, an opening you don’t take. “Fine.” She sighs, “No tricks, I’ve got your number.”

Oh thank god she can be reasoned with. “Come on, help me push, it’ll go f–faster with both of us.” You move to one side, making space for Argent. She scrunches her nose up, giving you a once over and then steps up beside you, grabbing the handle. Together you trundle through the dark.

“How far?”

“A distance but–” you watch her from the side, “we’re close to a checkpoint I set up to–to–to collapse the tunnel behind me.”

She snorts. “Dangerous.”

“Y–yeah well…” try to keep the emotion out of your voice, “it’d be a bother if someone chased after.”

“Too bad for you.”

“Too bad for me.”

The two of you continue along in silence. Pushing the cart is much easier now with Argent’s help. Silence is dangerous however. Too many unanswered questions, such as: “What uh– what happened with the Catastrofiend?”

“Ran. Chased it, found you instead.”

“W–well… fuck.”

“How did that thing get in there?”

“N–n–no idea.” You lie, more than a little anxious that you can’t pick up whether she bought it or not. You still have Mortum’s gun. Should you– no, no, who knows what else might come flying out. And suppose it did work, what would you even…? No. It’s not an option.

The dampeners begin to lighten as you continue further down, gone by the time you reach a split in the passage, joists in holding up the ceiling. Small miracles. “Hold on.” You brush your head over the frame, nanovores reducing it to dust under your hand. The ceiling begins to shift and you grab the cart with Argent again. “Come on, let’s move.”

“Cute trick.”

Would it be gauche to thank her for? Does she know? This isn’t the time to risk it. You can’t bring Argent straight to Rosie. Too dangerous. No, instead, take the other path as the ceiling collapses behind you. This path ends in a brick wall, easily kicked down.

The room on the other side is pitch black as the two of you clamber through. A basement. Old, abandoned. No sense of any other minds nearby. Once you’re above ground you can just radio Rosie. But first you have someone to deal with.

Argent lets go of the cart, turning to face you. “So we both wanted the same thing. Lucky us.” You can feel it now, without the dampeners to mask everything. She’s desperate for this.

“So…” You stall for time as you try to get a read on her thoughts. “You know what this is, w–what it can do.”

Argent hunches her shoulders, reading to move. “So do you.”

“It needs to–to be assembled.” You reach back to pat the briefcase hanging from your belt. “What, are you planning to set it up at the Rangers?”

“Don’t be absurd. This is black tech.” Argent huffs. “Even my leash has limits.”

“Leash?” You shake your head. No time to unpack that one. “W–well, I’ve got a place to assemble it safely.”

“And you know how to do that?”

“Do you?”

“Whatever, that isn’t even the biggest problem here.” Evading the question? Interesting. Argent pulls off her helmet, shaking out her silver hair with a grimace on her face. “This is.”

You take a step back, cross your arms. “W–what is?”

“Us.” Argent gestures between the two of you, “this is going to take time to bring online. Weeks… maybe?” She shakes her head. “I’m not letting it leave my sight.”

“Same.” Too much is riding on this.

Argent barks out a laugh. “Why? You already have secrets you can lord over me… you know what I did: the masquerade, breaking and entering–”

“Oh please, d–d–don’t be stupid.” You wave it away, “I know the Rangers. You could explain it all away in a heartbeat. Infiltrating a villain hangout? Retrieving black tech? They’ll give you a f–fucking medal.” Is she really that scared of being found out? Why?

“And you? What, am I supposed to just trust someone hiding behind a mask?” Her voice is razor sharp, “You’re a telepath.” You wince under your helmet. “you manipulate everyone and everything around and… I don’t even know what you would want it?”

Her thoughts are barbed, hard to read but… she wants to trust you. Doesn’t want to blow this chance. But why would she? Why would anyone trust you? Ever?

You can’t tell her who you are. Not here, not now. If you were lucky she’d just kill you. She’s earned it, certainly. More likely you’ll have to go into hiding, abandon any pretense of the civilian life you’ve slowly been reclaiming. And that’s… Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do? What keeps holding you back?

Argent is getting antsy. You need to say something before she just goes for it and attacks. Maybe you’d win, but damaging the prototype is a risk you’d rather avoid. You can’t exactly come clean about why you need it either. If she treats you with any modicum of respect now, then it’s because she’s operating under the mistaken assumption that you’re human.

The very thought of risking that, of letting it go. Of never seeing Julia again, or worse– You can feel your heartbeat quicken. Fuck. God damnnit. You’re trapped.

No matter what you do, you’re going to have to trust her with something.

Your hands are shaking as you reach up, find the clasps of your helmet. Across from you, Argent tenses up but doesn’t attack. Why the hell are you doing this? Except – she deserves to know. And what do you have left of your civilian life left at this point anyway? You knew this couldn’t last forever.

The display goes dark as you pop the helmet from the seal, disconnected from the rest of the suit. Your gut twists, a sharp pain as you struggle to keep your breathing under control. You feel sick. Unreal, like you’ve stepped outside yourself. This is such a stupid idea.

You can feel the Rat-King curl around you, trying to protect you from the danger. Joke’s on it, the biggest danger to you here is yourself.

Can barely see as you pull the helmet up, over, hold it in your hands in front of you. In this dim gloom you can’t read Argent’s face, only her mind. Quiet, struggling to process what she’s seeing. She steps toward you and you step back.

“Ariadne Becker.” If there was any doubt about her being able to see in the dark, it’s gone now. All that effort into avoiding her, and you’ve blown it in one go.

“G–got it in– in one.”

Can see her cross her arms through the gloom, shift her weight. “It wasn’t Locus, was it Ariadne?” She snarls. You can feel the fury building up in her head, leaking out through her composure. Didn’t she promise to eviscerate the person responsible?

Die now or die later, might as well jump.

“Y–yes.” You can’t look at her as you say it. “I’m sorry–”

She moves on, grabbing you by the front of your armor claws digging. Panic takes over and you drop your helmet trying to get free, only for white to explode across your vision as your head is rocked hard to the left, pain searing across the right side of your face. Her hand is the only thing holding you upright.

“Don’t you dare try apologizing to me.”

“It– it was w–wrong, I–”

The second slap hits you on the left side of your face, there’s a ringing in your ears, and you can taste copper from biting your tongue. To call her ‘mad’ undersells the storm of emotion radiating off her. Is she going to kill you? Maybe. Of all the beatings you’ve taken in your life, there’s no question you deserve this one.

“I–I–I’m sorry.” You swallow hard, fighting back nausea. “I shouldn’t have– I mean I– I know what it’s– what it’s like and I…” You’re babbling now. Too many words desperate to get out at once.

Her hand comes down again, hard. You can really taste the blood now. “Don’t you fucking dare compare yourself to me.” She growls in your face, as she raises her hand, pulling it back into a fist, and you try not to flinch. Brace yourself. When the blow doesn’t come you open your eyes.

Her hand hovers an inch away from your skin. “You used me.”

“I–I–I did.”

From the corner of your eye you can see her uncurl her fist, fingers slowly elongating into claws, piercing through the glove. “I should kill you.”

“It– It would be… pretty easy right now.” Your heart is pounding, mouth tasting copper, and throat feeling sticky. The Rat–King in the back of your head is screaming at you to do something but this… You don’t fight back, don’t struggle. This is too familiar. Memories of other times, other, brighter rooms. For everything you’ve tried to change, you’re still were you started.

If she did you in now, does the thing you can’t bring yourself to go through with… then isn’t that a victory for everyone really?

“I could do it…” Her hand is shaking, doubts unraveling in her mind. “I should…”

“Then do it already!” You cough, as she lets you go and you stagger backwards, hit the brick wall and try to hold yourself up. “I thought you– why hesitate?”

“Shut up!” She hisses through clenched teeth and comes at you again. This time her hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to send alarm bells. “You really want to die that badly, Becker?” You can feel it running through her head, all the little fantasies she had constructed about this moment.

Your vision blurs as you laugh. “Y–yeah, actually.”

Can feel something sharp poke against your neck, and then just as suddenly it’s gone. Argent hisses air through clenched teeth. “Don’t be a coward.” She touches her other hand to your face, one nail scratching just under your eye.

“W–what?”

“You don’t deserve to get off that easy.”

A line of white fire runs down your face, blinding you in your left eye. Blink, and your vision is back but bloody. You can feel the cut run from forehead to check. Hurts like hell, can already feel the blood running down your face. This is going to need stitches.

She lets go of you, pushing you back against the wall as she steps away. Licking the blood off her finger, she glares at you. “That was for using me. Don’t ever go into my head again.”

You slide to the floor. This… this really just happened. “I–I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.” There’s no way you’ll every be able to explain it, is there? But then, it’s not really about you, is it?

“Shut up.” Argent snaps. “You said you can put it together?”

You nod your head. You hope you aren’t over-estimating your ability.

“Then put it together. Don’t even think about double-crossing me on this.” Her smile in the dim glow of your suit’s flashlight is cold and all teeth. “Don’t worry, Becker.” She puts a finger to her lips. “This’ll be our secret.”

She turns away from you and stalks up the stairs to find her way out of whatever building this is a basement of. As she turns she moves her hand from her mouth out to the side, transitioning into giving you the middle finger as she departs.

You sit there against the wall until her footsteps fade and you lose track of her mind. Gingerly you touch a hand to your face, hiss at the fresh sting of pain. Still bleeding. Will absolutely need stitches. Probably end up a scar.

Well, it’s not like you don’t have plenty of experience covering those up.

Except… maybe you’ll let this one be.

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #fhr/Ariadne #mc #dr. mortum #lady argent #shroud #jake manalo #catastrofiend

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leviloviatar · 6 years

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You literally understand these characters so much i love it. It’s by no means a matter of course esp with this crap show that butchers Arya and Gendry’s characters (and bran too :(() but what are your favourite character traits of Gendry? And in what ways are Robert and Gendry similar and different?

OK YOU GUYS I AM EXCITED

First of all anon thank you so much!!! Not only was I blessed with this amazing ask, but I also got this similar one:

You’re active again omg I love your blog and your gendrya posts :D so I wanted to ask in which ways Gendry and Robert are similar and in which ways are they different? I think he is kind of a mixture between Robert and Stannis

I don’t know what I did to deserve my asks to blessed with these amazing anons but I LOVE YOU and since you both just happened to ask me about one of my favorite subjects of all time…*cracks knuckles*

Let’s talk about some burly, beautiful, Baratheon boys, shall we?

So the most glaringly obvious similarity between Gendry and Robert has got to be the “Baratheon Look,” right? GRRM takes great pains to remind us, time and time again, that Gendry looks like Robert. They both have the classic Baratheon features - tall with dreamy blue eyes, thick black hair, and very big muscles.

*Its important to remember, that although when we first meet Robert Baratheon he’s gotten old and fat, back in his day he was a damn fine looking man.

Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm’s End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden’s fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He’d had a giant’s strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.-AGOT, Eddard I

For reference as to how ripped Robert was, Ned Stark, who wields a two-handed broadsword (note: that’s really fucking heavy) can barely even lift the warhammer Robert is swinging around…Robert was ripped.

Speaking of hammers, Gendry has literally grown up swinging a hammer (albeit around a forge) but remember when Tohbo Mott tells Ned that Gendry was made to swing a hammer? And since we now have show!Gendry swinging a warhammer, I have high hopes that book!Gendry will also follow in Robert’s footsteps as to his weapon of choice. In case all that hammer imagery doesn’t hit hard enough (pun intended and also I’m so sorry lol) GRRM is constantly reminding us that Gendry looks like Robert. I mean, when Ned first discovers Gendry, the reader is given the literary equivalent of a big blinking neon sign that says ‘hey look at this kid, he looks just like King Robert’ -

The master called over a tall lad about Robb’s age, his arms and chest corded with muscle. “This is Lord Stark, the new Hand of the King,” he told him as the boy looked at Ned through sullen blue eyes and pushed back sweat-soaked hair with his fingers. Thick hair, shaggy and unkempt and black as ink. The shadow of a new beard darkened his jaw.-AGOT, Eddard VI

And just so we seriously don’t forget, there are plenty of reminders throughout the books that hey, this guy really looks like a Baratheon. For example:

Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. - ACOK, Arya II

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. -ACOK, Arya VIII

Remember when Brienne first sees Gendry, and for a second she thinks its Renly? (AFFC, Brienne VII, I think?) Well, despite his inconsistent eye color…“Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile.” (-ACOK, Catelyn II).

Another thing Gendry shares with Robert is a bit of that famous Baratheon temper. “Ours is the Fury” are the house words, after all. This is especially true of Robert, who is a bit infamous for his “fury,” and we see his temper quite often. For example:

“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. -AGOT, Eddard VIII

and with the king in such a black fury … -AGOT, Eddard VIII

Robert was in a fury, until he heard talk of some monstrous boar deeper in the forest. - AGOT, Eddard XII

Robert Baratheon’s fury had soured the ironmen’s taste for the new gods, it would seem. - ACOK, Theon I

This is also the man who, despite already having killed Rhaegar Targaryen, still dreams about killing him every single night of his life. Have you ever been so angry at something that after you’ve smashed it to bits, you still want to smash it? Robert Baratheon has. But for me, the very worst example of his temper that we see as readers is when he slaps Cersei, and then threatens to do it again (I feel like the fact that Robert feels guilty about this says a lot about his inability to control his temper, more on that in a sec). Point is, Robert has a bad temper.

But we also see traces of this famous ‘Baratheon fury’ in Gendry. Although it mostly surfaces as his stubbornness (oh hi Stannis), we do get to see instances of Gendry’s temper getting the better of him (my personal favorite being the Peach, but also see jealous!Gendry). But the important thing is, that Gendry is able to control his temper much more effectively than Robert. This is most likely due to the fact that he has to. Robert is the king, he can do whatever he wants with no consequences. But Gendry? A lowborn bastard with no money or connections? Yeah, he can’t go around doing that. Losing his temper could also mean losing his life, no matter how strong he his, because of his position in society, which brings me to the most important part about these two which is their Big Differences:

Robert is the legitimate son and heir of a wealthy and powerful noble family

Gendry is a very poor, lowborn bastard with no family

Robert was an infamous womanizer who fathered many bastard children

Gendry is a blushing virgin who only has eyes for Arya Stark and would literally never touch another woman ever fight me

I feel like Robert and Gendry are sort of like a case study in nurture vs. nature. Despite their many genetic similarities, their vastly different socioeconomic environments shaped them in very different ways. Robert grew up as the eldest son of a Great House - he lived in a castle, knowing that he would inherit that castle, and all the lands, titles, and privileges that come along with it; other lords owed him allegiance; he was wealthy, powerful, and on top of that, he was good at everything he did (much to the chagrin of his younger brother Stannis). He wasn’t just any lord, but the Lord of Storm’s End, a very important position in society, and then he went on to become the fucking King, arguably the most important person in society. So what does he do with all his money and power?

Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures -AGOT, Eddard I.

And what does Robert have an appetite for? In his own words: “warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for.” - Robert to Ned, AGOT, Eddard VII. Drinking, fucking, fighting, that’s what he likes. (We could talk about how much of that is actually a coping mechanism but let’s save psychoanalyzing Robert’s actions for another, crazier post lol).

Gendry being both a lowborn and a bastard is crucial in shaping the man that he becomes. Gendry grew up in essentially the exact opposite circumstances that Robert did. Not only was he lowborn and extremely poor, but he had to live with the added stigma of being a bastard (and an ‘unrecognized’ bastard at that, which we see in ASOIAF is very different than being a ‘recognized’ bastard). As we know, being a bastard is something that Gendry is painfully aware of. (Unlike Robert, who doesn’t seem to give a single fuck how many bastards he leaves behind). Gendry hates the father he never knew. And on top of that, his opinion of Robert is pretty damn low as well…

“That old drunk?“ said Gendry scornfully. “He’s dead, some boar killed him, everyone knows that.” - ASOS, Arya II

I think the reason Gendry doesn’t have the inclination to abuse alcohol or women in the way Robert did because this is the world he was born and raised in. Gendry could never afford to be the womanizing drunk his father was. Of course, I’m not saying that if Gendry had the same upbringing as Robert then he definitely would have turned out the same - maybe, maybe not. I’m merely saying that the possibility of becoming someone like that doesn’t exist for Gendry. This is someone at the very bottom of the social ladder, someone with no money to spend in taverns or brothels. Actually, even engaging in consensual sex would be pretty risky for Gendry, because it could lead to huge ramifications, for example, fathering a bastard he couldn’t afford to care for, or pissing off the wrong father or brother. Stepping out of line could literally mean his life, since someone like Gendry could be killed in the slums of Flea Bottom with literally no ramifications.

To me, this is also what makes Acorn Hall such a big fucking deal - Gendry Waters pulling Arya Stark down to the floor and rolling around with her like that is BOLD AF and Gendry knows that. It’s one of the main reasons I squeal every time I read it. I really do think there’s a very Baratheon-like part of him that comes out, especially where she is concerned. Speaking of which, Gendry and Robert both have remarkably similar (excellent) taste in women - all those Arya/Lyanna parallels aren’t there for no reason!

Another interesting parallel between Robert and Gendry is their experiences with war. Robert loved war. I mean he really loved war. He was good at it. It made him feel exhilarated. And most importantly, the horrors of war didn’t really impact him because he was part of the aristocracy. Gendry’s journey, by stark contrast, has literally taken him through the devastating impacts of war on the common people. He has seen the worst of it - the myriad of ways that wars waged by the nobility literally destroys the people those lords are supposed to be protecting. In my opinion, these experiences are exactly what would make him a good king, not only better than Robert, but also better than Stannis or Renly, because Gendry understands on a very real level the suffering of the people.

(Personally, I would love to have more about the young!Baratheons, like growing up at Storms End together, and see how their personalities developed into the men they became. If this is a fic, somebody link me!)

Ok so I’m really gonna wrap this up now before it becomes so long that no one ever leaves me asks again, but remember what Donal Noye said about the Baratheon brothers?

“Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He’ll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he’s copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day.”

Well, I know I’ve said this before but I think Gendry is Valyrian Steel. He was forged differently from the others, but because of that he is uncommonly strong, sharp, and exceptionally valuable.

#anon ask #gendry waters #Robert Baratheon #gendry baratheon #asoiaf #i love you so much anons thank you for giving me life with these asks #i will happily talk about the baratheons all day long

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lordshaxxion · 6 years

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Who is Lord Othion? Boy let me tell you a (long) story.

This fancy little bastard is my first Destiny character I made and thoroughly fleshed out. I might write his story out fully, but right now this is just a basic run-down of his arc because I wanted to give him his spotlight, bless his cotton socks. It’ll go under a cut because this will get long and I love my boy :’)

Far before the Dark Below arc and the real meat of the Destiny universe, Othion was resurrected in a small, burnt-out and long-abandoned settlement (picture the one from Zavala’s cinematic where they’re fighting Fallen, this will be relevant later) by his Ghost, Comet. Sass and snark aside, they bonded quickly and the closest place to them, as Comet says to Othion, is the Iron Temple (just go with it, I don’t know where anything is relative to the other in Destiny >:U ) and that they should travel there for Othion to learn to be a Guardian, and that one of the best teachers resides there that will help him.

After a long travel, they make it to the Iron Temple with Othion nearly freezing to death on Saladin’s doorstep and passing out, only to wake in a lovely warm bed in a lovely warm room with a lot of lovely warm furs around him. Comet is whizzing around in relief and Saladin brings him some better clothes than the rags he’d been wearing prior. From that moment on, Othion begins his training with another Guardian, a Hunter called Cidrex with bright green hair and a sassy Ghost called Socks. The two of them are trained hard and in the end it’s worth it, the both of them seeing and treating the other as brothers and, after Lord Saladin feels their training has been completed, Iron Lords respectively. Lord Cidrex is a Nightstalker and an Arcstrider, Lord Othion is a Stormcaller and a Voidwalker. After receiving this status and spending much time with Lord Saladin, they both feel they have earned their right to leave and explore as they see fit and Saladin doesn’t stop them. Lord Cidrex heads to the Last City, becoming Iron Lord representative full-time there and strengthening bonds between the remote Temple and the Tower. Lord Othion, on the other hand, heads to the stars to explore, soon in Asher Mir’s company as his assistant and helping him to research the Vex through ‘research and destroy’.

After nearly a decade, Othion returns to Earth and joins his brother at the Tower to help the Vanguard with all he’s learned from studying the Vex Collective so extensively. When he’s being taken to meet the Vanguard, he keeps his helmet (adorned with an antler, see the doodle page, bottom corner) on to make a good first impression with important people he’s never met. On the way past the Crucible area, he sees Lord Shaxx for the first time and he’s blown away almost by just how huge this Titan is, how he shouts praise and boasts his Crucible to passing Guardians. Cidrex pulls his brother along and the meeting with the Vanguard goes smoothly, Othion removing his helmet with his back to the hallway behind them and giving his research to Ikora respectively.

Meeting done, Cidrex takes Othion (helmet back on in somewhat shyness, somewhat discomfort) for a tour around the Tower and shows him around. As they get to the end of their tour, stopping near Eris’ creepy corner, Cidrex is about to say they should go and get dinner in this neat little place he knows when they hear Shaxx laugh at a small gaggle of Guardians and say “You want the Crucible? I am the Crucible.” Othion is enraptured by this, unable to take his eyes off him for a moment.

“I’m going to punch the Crucible.” “Othion, no-” “Othion, yes.”

And with that, he marches over to Shaxx and demands a match off him. Fists and class abilities only, no weapons, no supers, no nothing. Shaxx laughs, finding a Warlock of all Guardians demanding such a thing off him. He finds it cute, endearing almost, and something familiar about the way this stranger holds himself. He agrees, because it will at least serve as a reminder as to why he is unbeaten in his own Crucible. An hour later, and the match begins in what I like to think of as an arena, like a Colosseum arena with crowds filling it.

The fight is swift and fast-paced, Othion blinking circles around Shaxx and using his agility to his advantage, striking Shaxx a couple times and receiving a punch to the shoulder that sends him off-balance and blinking back a couple paces to recover. Shaxx laughs and asks if he’s had enough.

“Enough games.”

Othion launches himself at Shaxx, running full-pelt towards the Titan and Shaxx readies himself to attack when suddenly Othion jumps and blinks towards him, suddenly appearing in his close-quarters and punching him in the face. Full Warlock melee force behind it, square in the helmeted jaw, fist full of Void, and it’s powerful enough to send Shaxx flying backwards across the arena, skidding to a halt flat on his backside. The crowd goes silent, everyone watching the broadcast goes silent. They can’t believe it. Lord Shaxx? Defeated? In his own Crucible? Lord Othion moves over and helps the Titan up, and the arena bursts into a tumultuous roar, a cacophany of cheers because someone has beaten Shaxx in living memory. Then, as Shaxx is standing and blinking the dazed sensation from his head, he drops to one knee and holds Othion’s hand. The arena falls silent again, murmurs spreading throughout the crowd as Shaxx says just one thing.

“Marry me.” And Othion leans in close.

“I will say yes, but only if you can defeat me in another match. It will be set on your terms and when you are ready. But if you cannot defeat me, then my answer will be no and it will always be no. You have one shot.”

The stakes are high, but Shaxx accepts. And then he begins to train. He trains and trains and trains and between then and the ‘proposal battle’, he is determined to get to know Othion. He takes him out on sparrow rides, for dates, for long walks around the City to see the sights and Othion helps run Crucible matches (Shaxx learns he gets just as into the matches, shouting and getting carried away as he does. He loves this man.) before they go out on one last date right before Shaxx demands the battle. They have agreed the whole time to never see the other’s face, and agreed that they remove their helmets the night before the match, whenever that is to be set. The night before the match is set, Shaxx takes Othion out somewhere to see fireflies, the only spot he knows of where it is undisturbed and silent and just perfect.

As they walk through an abandoned settlement after spending the whole day getting there, the sun casts a golden glow on everything as it sets and it takes Othion a moment of brief conversing with Comet through their bond to understand where they are. He jogs ahead to what used to be a street, dilapidated buildings crumbling either side of him, and stops suddenly, humming. Shaxx asks what’s wrong and Othion just laughs softly, shaking his head.

“This is where Comet found me. This is where I was resurrected.” He says, looking at Shaxx. Shaxx can’t believe him, he knows this area, he knows the horrors, the tragedies that happened here. Othion insists it’s the right place and Shaxx demands he removes his helmet while they still have daylight. Removing his first, Shaxx stares Othion down. Dark, star-studded cheeks and burning red eyes stare at Othion, the other realising that Shaxx is Deepborn before complying and removing his. The second Shaxx sees his face, he recognises him and it brings nothing but a mess of joy and distress as he falls to his knees, crying. Othion panics, going to him and waiting for Shaxx to explain as he comforts him.

Hundreds of years ago, when they moved from settlement to settlement, before the City was even conceived, Shaxx fell in love with a mortal man. A civilian, named Orion. He was kind, always worrying about Shaxx even though the Titan always insisted he needn’t. Orion loved Shaxx too, but neither of them gathered the courage to tell the other until it was far too late. The Fallen attacked the settlement, burning buildings and ravaging the people there and the few Risen, as they were called, struggled to beat them back. Even with Zavala’s might, Shaxx’s brute strength and Saladin’s determination, they weren’t enough and they lost many to the Fallen. Amidst the fight, Shaxx ran off to try and find Othion, having lost sight of him when several Vandals cornered him. He shouted his name and finally saw him in one of the streets, frantically trying to reload his weapon. Seeing Shaxx, he shouted to him. Schlick. A Fallen arc spear sliced through his chest, Orion coughing blood in shock and staring wide-eyed at Shaxx. It took the Titan seconds to crush the Captain that had done it, kicking its carcass away and cradling his lover. The blood was sticking to his armour, but he didn’t care. Orion was dying and he hadn’t been there to protect him. Shaxx couldn’t help himself, he confessed his feelings and Orion just laughed softly, cupping his helmet. Asking him to promise that he wouldn’t just give up, that he would protect the people, that he would keep going, Orion died in Shaxx’s arms and the rage that overcame the Titan was powerful enough to manifest in Solar dripping from his fists. Laying his fallen lover down, he stood and laid waste to the rest of the Fallen and it wasn’t until every last one had been eliminated did he finally calm, sinking to his knees in grief and sobbing. Since that day, he never looked at another the same way, he couldn’t bring himself to. Orion still held a place in Shaxx’s heart.

And here he was, staring at the face of his long-lost lover, albeit a different species now, but regardless. Orion had returned to him, with no recollection of his past life and a strength Shaxx could only wish he’d had all those years ago. With Othion crying quietly, holding Shaxx gently, the Titan resolved that he would win the fight tomorrow, or he’d die trying. Othion said he wouldn’t just gift it to him, and Shaxx wouldn’t expect him to. They watch the fireflies together, Shaxx admitting to Othion that it was Orion who showed this place to him lifetimes ago and that it was somewhat cathartic with this revelation of who Othion was.

The fight came and went, Shaxx beating Othion into the ground successfully and after a long and drawn-out fight of two seemingly-matched powers. They were wed, the Speaker giving them both his and the Traveler’s blessings and the exchange of matching Bond and Mark signifying their Lights were now as one, half the congregation crying, the Vanguard included. From then on, Lord Othion assists Lord Shaxx with the running of the Crucible, many Guardians coining the nickname ‘Crucible Husbands’ for them both with the iron fist and ferocity they both command the Crucible with. Othion assists Shaxx with outfitting Guardians for the Crucible, handling their rewards and seeing to the arenas being made ready for matches.

Basically they love each other very much and would do anything for the other, their relationship is well-founded and not solely based on the fact that Othion was Shaxx’s lover from another life; they talked about that issue and Shaxx affirmed that he was intent on marrying Othion for his skill and the personality he was presented with in the fight and the lead-up to the reveal of who he was, not for his face and the remnant of a life long gone. Their honeymoon was them making the best love, and bonding their Lights together, in Shaxx’s little apartment on a bed decorated with furs in candlelight, with a lot of laughter and silly leadup and perfect aftercare. Because they love each other. Very. Much.

#destiny #lord shaxx #lord othion #crucible husbands #long post #they love each other very much #let them be happy #I got a little carried away writing this #but I do not regret it #because look #look at my beautiful babies #I love them both very much #Jay writes

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amillionsmiles · 7 years

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Hello! I really LOVE your writing so um, can I ask for Plance in the height difference au? The numer 8?

thank you so much! height difference AUs work so well for this pair (TOL AND SMOL *cries*), thanks for requesting one! :)

#8 was: “You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting very suspicious”set in the canon universe this time, because why not ;)

It starts on Mustrorth.

Another planet freed, another group to draw into their alliance, another rally to attend. Pidge has gotten used to the routine by now: smile, nod, shake hands. On occasion, people bring her trinkets—word has spread about the Green Paladin’s affinity for alien tech and strange objects. Those meetings are always her favorite, since she gets to return to the castleship with an assortment of gadgets and gizmos to figure out.

And it’s not that the Mustrorthrians are boring, exactly. They’re an enthusiastic bunch, with fancy, curling antlers and large, kind eyes. But as a group of them huddles closer to her, Pidge is made suddenly aware of how small she is in comparison. And the fact that she’s been separated from her team.

“Pidge!” someone shouts. “Pidge, where are you?”

“I’m over here!” she yells, helmet cradled under an arm.

Lance wriggles his way between two Musthrorthrians, letting out a breath when he sees her. “Oh, good. Come on, Allura needs us back at the castle.”

He holds a hand out, and Pidge doesn’t think twice about taking it, nodding her goodbyes as he pulls her through the crowd. Lance cuts through everyone like they’re water: Excuse me, paladins coming through, and soon they’ve emerged from the worst of it. Pidge blinks. She’d almost forgotten what the sky looked like when it wasn’t blotted out by a series of giant heads.

“Jeez, it was like a forest in there,” says Lance, squeezing her hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for coming to find me,” Pidge says, slipping her hand from his grip.

Lance grins. “‘Course. I’m like a shark, I can sniff out anything.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “Weird and inaccurate, but okay.”

Laughing, Lance starts ahead of her. “Come on, let’s not keep Princess Allura waiting.”

*****

The second time is on Jespora. Pidge hears a shriek and then Lance is rounding the corner, grabbing her hand.

“What is going on?” she demands.

“Just keep running!”

“What are we running from?” Pidge risks a glance over her shoulder, sees a swarm of yellow, furry six-legged creatures on their heels. One makes eye contact with her and squawks, loudly, revealing a mouth full of serrated teeth.

“Holy quiznak.”

“You looked back!” Lance sounds betrayed. “Why would you look back?”

“I wanted to see what we were up against!” says Pidge. “They’re like half a foot tall! We could take them!”

“Short things are closer to the devil,” says Lance, and then he’s boosting her up onto a nearby ladder. Pidge scurries up it without question, Lance clambering up behind her until they’re safe on the roof. Cautiously, the two of them peek over the edge.

The strange flock of creatures mills about the base of the building. One tries to leap toward the lowermost rung and misses, hissing angrily.

“Oh, god,” Lance moans beside her. “We’re going to have to call for an extraction.”

“What did you even do?”

Lance is quiet.

“…Lance?”

“I…might have tried to pet one,” he says, and Pidge finally notices the way he’s cradling his left hand awkwardly.

“You’re hurt.” She touches his shoulder. “Let me see.”

He shows her his wound. The skin around the side of his hand closest to his pinky has been punctured, carrying the imprint of teeth.

“Oh, god,” Pidge says, before the more sensible side of her reminds: don’t panic. “Um, how…how badly does it hurt?”

“It’s not the worst,” says Lance. Concern overtakes his features. “You don’t think it could be poisonous, do you?”

“Probably not,” Pidge says, though it’s more guesswork and reassurance than anything.

“Listen, Pidge, if I don’t—”

“Don’t.” Pidge covers his mouth with one hand, her other one reaching for his good hand and squeezing, hard. “You’re fine. We’re going to get back to the castle and clean this up and I will personally shove you into a healing pod if I have to. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Nod if you understand.”

Lance nods, slowly.

“Good.” Pidge relaxes, letting her hand fall away from his mouth. There’s a softness to his eyes when he looks at her, something of a rosy glow. It prickles all over her skin.

“What?” she finally asks, when the silence gets to be too much.

“Look.” Lance’s eyes crinkle and he jerks his chin to indicate something over her shoulder. Following the motion, Pidge turns. “It’s a sunset.”

*****

The third time happens without fanfare. Without giant aliens towering over them or tiny evil creatures on their heels. Without a crowd, except for Allura, Hunk, and Keith.

They’ve just finished practicing as Voltron for the day. As the arms, Pidge and Lance have managed to unlock a new capability, some sort of two-bladed sword that Pidge is pretty sure will become Keith’s new favorite weapon. Lance exits his Lion and bounds over to her, hand raised for a high-five.

Pidge has to leap a little to reach it. Once she does, Lance catches her hand there, adjusting their grips and swinging it down until their palms are clasped between them.

She doesn’t think much of it. Chalks it up to his giddiness in the heat of the moment, or some newfound solidarity. It’s not until they’ve walked a couple paces that she starts to…wonder.

“Lance?”

“Hm?”

“You’re still holding my hand.”

He looks at her, and it’s not a sidelong glance or a fleeting smirk but a full-blown smile, 100% Lance and aimed straight at her heart.

“I know.”

#a;slkdgh;ashgd this is so cheesy i'm sorry #pidgance #plance #flirtyrobot #voltron #pidge #lance #otp: teenage dream meme team #my writing #fanfiction #ff: voltron #anonymous

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exilesofembermark · 7 years

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Game Dev Update | 9.7.17

It’s not just a Seer’s Staff. It’s a greeeedy Seer’s Staff. And it’s looking at your stuff, so better hide the valuables.

Animated gear is just one of many upgrades we got working last month on Exiles, so we’re back with another host of new developments and updates.

Last Update, we saw the Forge come online, showed a first-look at the evolution of combat mechanics, UI design, animations and the new avatar system. This time around, we’re going to dive into Ranked play, our progress on VFX, tiering Exiles loot, Difficulties, Faction relationships, and a very angry Elk.

As always, let’s dig into it together in live Discord chat or on the forums!

RANK

Our last build of Exiles featured some long-awaited systems coming online. I’ve written about the Forge at length, but no less exciting for me is the PVP Rank system now in operation.

It’s a single-point Rank system where players go from Rank 25 down to 1 and then enter the Legendary ladder for supremacy. As you can see from the badges here, there are a number of steps (gems) to progress through each badge, each with commensurate rewards at the end of each Season.

I’ll share the exact rule system as we finalize it, but we’re experimenting with streaks and progressions. Right now, it’s one win/loss, one point plus or minus, coupled with a couple of streak options. Naturally, I spent the first several hours of the build’s existence power-ranking to 1 to make sure that our resident Bard (SingmeAsong) didn’t attain that rank with his cheater-admin-OP characters.

/scowls at the Bard.

VFX

Across Player Abilities, NPCs and Battle Environments, visual effects are starting to make their way into the game’s innards.

We started with effects for Player Abilities, and will soon share these in the context of battle, but here’s 1st looks at

Gravity Prison - Alters the gravity around the target dealing damage and slowing them at an increasing amount for several rounds.

Destruction’s Wake - Deals heavy damage, reduces the target's Martial Resistance and increases Strength of the caster

And my current favorite, Unstable Magicks (that is spelled CORRECTLY) -Consume all buffs to self to cast a chaotic spell that increases in damage by 10% for each buff consumed.

We’re working on applying effects to Legendary items as well. You’ve seen this sword before, but now it’s so much frostier...

Have a look at these and more Exiles effects in this video posted by our own Yoeri Luos Vleer, who’s been cranking them out with crazy gusto.

DIFFICULTIES

The map continues to evolve, as does the game’s PVE systems. For challenge and replayability, we’re working on a system of difficulties for Quests to provide different levels of combat. Here, you’ll see the South end of the Wildewoods Zone, with Port Endmore there above the Difficulties menu. The activities to do on the map here will be filtered by difficulty as well as Events, so you can quickly see what is available to your character and choose (some Events will be rooted geographically, some not).

And yes, with greater risk comes greater reward-- we’re starting to input the Quest chains and their tasty treasures now...

A NEW LOOK FOR LOOT TIERS

We’ve shown the visual tiering system all along the way, and just as the gameplay and UI have evolved, so too has the way we’re approaching tiers. After experiments with changing model geometry and textures, then just textures, then both again, we’ve hit on what we think is the right solution.

The intent is to give the lower-level player interesting gear while offering a significant visual bump up as the same equipment levels-up (via upgrade in the Forge) or is earned in battle once the player is at the appropriate level.

Here’s the system for a basic Warrior helm:

The Tower Shield:

And the Barricade Shield:

This results in a tough, banged-up, less-refined look at Tier 1 and a more elegant power-lookat Tier 3 (and allows for further creativity to the color-tells of Rare and Epic gear).

We’ve also been busy “component-izing” weapons to allow us to create as much variety as possible without going back to square one. A system of weapon-LEGOs, if you will. Using this, we’re starting to see the opportunity for --in the example here-- 9 different weapons, including axe, mace, spear and staff variations from one-ish set of parts.

BOSS ENEMIES GET TURNED INTO LOOT

You might feel sorry for ol’ Grimhowl until you learn what he’s been up to. And you will, but not for a ways into your levelling Quest line. Suffice it to say, he’s not a nice wolf and this fate is perhaps too good for him.

He does make a nice set of Shoulders though.

PUT IT ALL TOGETHER

There will be a near-limitless number of looks you can achieve with your character’s gear, but here’s one based on the helm we showed last Update, the Narrator’s chest piece, Grimhowl’s Pelt and the weapon/shield combo from this post.

Note: comments about his ears clipping through the helmet will merit a SMITATION. We fixed it.

NEW BATTLE SYSTEM COMING ONLINE

Last Dev Update, we covered the changes to the combat system that we’ve been working on and this month, those changes are going into the build of the game. By month’s end, we should be testing those changes in earnest and we’ll report on the results right here.

Notice the current Stance-- the eye next to your avatar and health bar-- as well as the Stance you will move into should you choose each Ability.

(Go here for an explanation of Stances).

Here, you will cycle through your available Ability Loadout.

FACTIONS INFOGRAPHICS

We’re starting to experiment with how to display the goings-on within Embermark for your lore pleasure. Factions within the continent will be allies, indifferents and mortal enemies of each other, and your actions within the game will affect them in a host of different ways.

And for every action, there is a reaction, right? We’re working on how completing certain Quests or defeating certain foes will affect your place in the world as well as what might become available (or locked) to you. In addition, the plan is for a changing landscape-- so one Season (remember a Season in Exiles is currently a month of real-time) might see the Siege Dwarves and the Manifested at each other’s throats. Another, they might enjoy an uneasy alliance. How we’ll ultimately roll this out is up to what we learn in testing and beyond-- we’re just digging in.

Thus, don’t try to fully understand this infographic-- it’s a work-in-progress snapshot on Factions and how many allies/enemies they each have. Note that House Ronin... just doesn’t care. And The Purge wants to see everyone burn.

(For a higher res version, click here)

THE LENARI ELK

The Zone of Lenari is a landform sandwiched between the rocky ruins of Siege and the frigid forests of Eremis. Many species of forest-dwelling animal, including this massive Elk, call the Zone home.

After the Collapse, “embers” issued forth from the Breaches that appeared across the continent. Those embers fell on flora, fauna, inorganics, everything. In some cases, nothing happened. In others, the embers brought pain or death. And in other cases still-- the embers created fantastic alterations to whatever they fell upon. Marks. These Marks created visual mutations, sometimes with power increase or change.

The elk of Lenari are a species whose biology was changed-- they’re faster, smarter and imbued with a power you will have to experience in the game.

The markings along their coats and the coloration of the antlers will be significant to understanding how to take one of these down (and whether you even should).

NOW REMEMBER

We’ll keep sharing details as we soon head into testing (remember to PM TheWizard on the Exiles forums with your device type if you want in on closed testing & beta later), and you can count on early impressions from the testers throughout our various channels.

If you haven’t already, follow along with Exiles development on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. And if you haven’t, I’ll find you. And SMITE you.

THERE’S CHAT CHATTER EVERYDAY AS WE READY TO BATTLE

If you want to hear about the game, ask questions or connect with others who are helping the development team think about features, design and narrative, hop into the Discord Channel for live chat and say hi– it’s a friendly lot with plenty of daily shenanigans (there’s even– still– a Shenaniganizer).

BONUS: IT JUST WOULDN’T BE THE SAME WITHOUT... TATTERS

You can’t very well start the game adorned in glittering armor and glorious whatnot. Thus, I present to you a bit of Common gear that does--um-- very little for you. Gotta love them... Tatters!

#gamedev #esports #rpg

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