#fierce cas adventures

[fierce-sims]

WHATS 4+4 ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ 8‼️‼️‼️‼️

I tried my fucking damnedest to replicate some outfits from the R+J 1996 movie with what I had available and failed miserably but you know what they still serve

[astrolovecosmos]

Chiron in Aries as a spiritual warrior is confronting, impulsive, and strong. They embrace the bravery needed to navigate self-discovery, healing of the ego or identity, and empowerment overall. They fight for their soul. Despite this self-focus they can be good at getting others passionate about a cause or sense of justice.

Chiron in Taurus as a spiritual warrior embodies grounded healing, stability, and prosperity. They face issues of self-worth and material security with resilience. They can get stronger with a deep connection to nature, with self-acceptance, and seeing intrinsic value in things or people. Chiron in Taurus teaches that true healing arises from a strong sense of worthiness and connection to what you can create, nurture, or sustain.

Chiron in Gemini as a spiritual warrior is intellectually agile, communicative, and adaptable. They confront inner conflicts through dialogue, seeking understanding and integration. Embracing the power of words and ideas, they navigate the complexities of their psyche and relationships with curiosity and flexibility. They fight for clarity of thought and the liberation of the mind.

Chiron in Cancer as a spiritual warrior is the protector, guard, and natural healer. They address inner wounds with empathy and sensitivity, embracing vulnerability as a path to healing. Guided by intuition and the wisdom of the heart, they navigate the depths of their emotional landscape with compassion and courage. They fight for emotional security and the healing of ancestral patterns, fostering a sense of belonging and nurturing within themselves and others.

Chiron in Leo as a spiritual warrior is bold, creative, and fiercely authentic. They mend inner wounds related to self-expression and validation with heart and passion. Embracing their unique gifts and talents, they shine brightly as beacons of self-love and empowerment. They are guided by an inner fire and can inspire others to embrace their own sovereignty and creative potential. They fight for the liberation of the authentic self and the reigniting of a spiritual flame. They can also act as spiritual leaders at times.

Chiron in Virgo as a spiritual warrior is meticulous, analytical, and devoted to their causes or sense of justice. They must deal with inner wounds related to self-criticism and perfectionism with humility and acceptance. Embracing the power of self-care and service, they navigate the journey of self-improvement with precision and compassion. Guided by a desire for wholeness, they seek to heal themselves and others through practical, tangible means. They fight for inner purity and the integration of mind, body, and spirit.

Chiron in Libra as a spiritual warrior is guided by a desire for peace, they fight for inner equilibrium and harmonious connections. They fight and defend their inner peace and level-headedness. Logic and objectivity being tools for them on their healing journey. Embracing pros and cons of intimate or partnership-like dynamics, fighting for fairness, and seeking justice are all battles for this soul. Inner beauty, kindness, and grace are their weapons.

Chiron in Scorpio as a spiritual warrior delve into the shadows of the psyche, embracing the power of regeneration and healing. Guided by a profound understanding of the cycle of death and rebirth, they navigate the soul's journey with passion, intensity, and emotional strength. These are perceptive beings that must learn a lot about inner power and outer power dynamics. They fight for the integration of darkness and light, embracing the alchemical process.

Chiron in Sagittarius as a spiritual warrior seek a spiritual truth, they seek meaning and purpose. They are guided by a spirit of adventure and a thirst for higher knowledge, they navigate the terrain of their inner world with courage and optimism. They fight for liberation from limiting beliefs and dogma, embracing the transformative power of open-mindedness and philosophical exploration.

Chiron in Capricorn as a spiritual warrior navigates the rocky terrain of their inner world with patience and perseverance. They fight for self-reliance and the empowerment of their true potential, embracing the promise of hard work and follow the path to personal and spiritual growth. They are responsible, enduring, and ambitious spiritual leaders or followers. They have a deep sense of integrity and duty.

Chiron in Aquarius as a spiritual warrior breaks free from societal norms and embrace their authenticity. Guided by a spirit of innovation and a desire for social change, they navigate the complexities of their inner world with unconventional wisdom and radical self-acceptance. They fight for the freedom of the soul and the advancement of humanity, embracing collaboration and progressive thinking on the path to spiritual evolution. They inspire, rebel, argue, and shake things up.

Chiron in Pisces as a spiritual warrior transcends with profound empathy and spiritual insight. They are drawn to ideas and practices of enlightenment, seeking to dissolve boundaries and connect with the universal consciousness. They confront wounds related to vulnerability and sacrifice with a deep sense of compassion and selflessness. They fight to defend the sanctity of spiritual realms and to safeguard the well-being of all beings, embracing the archetype of a hero who fights out of love and devotion.

[skaikruswan]

Could you do one where the reader is lucifer daughter and in a relationship with Morpheus/dream

The star to light the dream

WC: 4k (At first i had no inspiration and then I had too much) Ao3

Relationship: Morpheus x f!reader

Notes: fluff, first meeting, falling in love, some angst, happy ending

Dear anon, thanks for the prompt! I am sorry it took a while, so have a monster prompt. I hope you like it!

If you liked this story, i have written others.

All living beings dream; even Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter. Your mind finds an escape inside the Dreaming. You wish you could say otherwise, but hell is not a pleasant home. Although you reside in the palace, you can still hear the anguished screams of the tortured souls. You will never get used to it. 

As a child, your parent called you his little star. You are Lucifer Morningstar’s light in the depths of hell, and their love for you runs deep, passionate, and fierce. They have no compunction about setting an example. When you were little, a demon once abducted you, even making it to the forest of suicide. You had screamed against the gag in your mouth, your little fists beating against unyielding leathery skin. Lucifer Morningstar had arrived, his wings opened, the wrath in their eyes burning like a nova. Belyphiel. His name is still used as a warning. Nobody knows what his punishment is, leaving it to everyone’s imagination, but there is no doubt that his existence is endless torture. 

Findings friends in hell is rather difficult. Demons either see you as a means to gain favor, or a menace. Loneliness has always shaped your existence. You have always stuck out. The mystery surrounding your other parent would forever haunt you: a human, a demon, or even a fallen angel? All you know is that Lucifer Morningstar, who anticipates your every wish, will give you no answer. 

“Ask for the prettiest seashell of the ocean, and I shall bring it for you, little star. Ask for the sweetest symphony, and you shall hear it. Ask for the moon, and I shall give you a star. But don’t ask about your other parent.” Lucifer’s words, although spoken softly and without menace, were clear and would not be questioned. 

Whoever your parent was or is, they and Lucifer gave you your favorite gift: wings. They were the envy of every demon, for they provided an escape. You could fly out of hell into the mortal world. Feathers ranging from the purest white to the deepest black are your legacy and your pride. You are proud that you’ve remained kind and hopeful, but you wouldn’t have survived without learning a few tricks. If necessary, you can be as hard and ruthless as necessary. 

Although you’re immortal, you still require sleep, and as you find yourself inside your lush chambers, the gold gleaming inside the black marble, you wonder what Lucifer Morningstar dreams about. You love your parent, but even you would never dare asking about the silver city and their time as angel. Do they even dream? 

You like dreaming; either your imagination takes full command and leads you on an adventure, or you find yourself inside the Dreaming, ready to explore. This time, it is the latter. 

In the distance, you see the Dream King’s palace, the shining heart of this realm. As much as you want to explore, you keep your distance. You’ve always thought it best to steer clear of the palace and its residents. Even in your dreams, you’re cautious. The Endless are powerful and who knows what they might be scheming. 

This dream, you’re wandering through a large city, alive with people cheering on the streets. Is it a parade, a festival, or something else? It doesn’t matter, and their joy and excitement are infectious. You walk through the crowd, your heart heavy in your chest. You like to visit earth, but you can’t make real connections. Humanity has become perceptive, and sooner or later, the people who have become your acquaintances start to ask the wrong questions: Can I visit you? Where do you live? Where’s your family? What do you do for a living? You can only blend in so much with humanity, and you don’t like lying. You will always be an outsider, in hell an on earth. 

“Your dreams are always filled with people,” a deep, pleasant voice states, and you force yourself to remain calm, fighting against the dread wrapping around your insides. You have done nothing wrong. 

“I enjoy company,” you simply answer, focusing on your even breathing. You haven’t turned around. 

“If you enjoy company, you may visit the palace,” he offers, and this makes you turn around. Morpheus, King of dreams and nightmares, ruler of the Dreaming, Dream of the Endless, is inside your dream. He radiates the same kind of limitless power than Lucifer Morningstar. He is one of the Endless, and it makes you want to take a step back. His white skin, almost marble, his dark messy hair, his black clothing, they don’t compare to his fathomless blue eyes; eyes that have seen the birth of the universe and contain galaxies. 

“You would invite me to the heart of your realm?” you ask, feeling hope and curiosity rise. Who knows what kind of adventures await? 

“Yes, little star.” Hearing the King of Dreams say your nickname sends a shudder through you. Is it a lucky coincidence or does he know that you’re Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter? You think it might be the latter; Dream seems like a ruler who’s always informed about everything and everyone in his realm, especially special guests such as yourself. 

“Thank you,” you say and incline your head, showing him the due respect. The dream has lost all importance, irrelevant compared to this conversation. 

“The same rules apply to you; I don’t tolerate anyone who might harm my realm or its residents.” Dream’s voice has taken a darker tone, and the hair at the back of your neck rise. 

“You would threaten me?” You don’t know what pushes you to challenge him like that, crossing your arms as you give him a defiant look. You’re usually not that reckless and you don’t hide behind your parent. 

“I threaten everyone who would be a threat to my realm,” Dream nearly growls, taking a big step and bridging the distance between you and him. He towers over you, and you force yourself to stand still. “Don’t give me a reason, daughter of Lucifer.” For a moment, his eyes are as dark as and his expression as thunderous as the deep gray, rumbling sky above them. 

You blink and he’s gone, and despite the dream, you feel alone. 

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

It takes you longer than you want to admit to finally explore the palace, but you are so glad that you finally do. There are not only dreamers, but actual people! Lucienne, the prim librarian of the Dreaming, offers to give you a tour through the library, and you can’t believe your luck. 

“I wish I had come sooner,” you curse under your breath as you marvel at the countless tales begging you to be read. 

“Don’t worry,” Lucienne chuckles, “you can always come back.” The thought warms you more than expected. 

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

You’re on your way to the library when you realize that Dream is holding court. You’ve seen your parent discuss matters with the dukes of hell, so it doesn’t surprise you to see dreams and nightmares report to him. 

High on the balcony, Dream is sitting on his throne, looking regal and powerful. You can’t tear you gaze away from him, catching every movement, as small as it may be, listening to every word he says. 

Out of nowhere, he returns your gaze, and you turn around and stride into the library, his eyes burning holes inside you. 

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

You enjoy simple dreams, dreams you’ve had several times. Whispers of a rebellion orchestrated by one of the dukes of hell have been reported to Lucifer Morningstar by Mazikeen, and just like with a spark of fire, your parent had doused it immediately with retribution and violence. Sometimes you wonder if you would ever get used to brutality, by the way one can hurt another person, but in a way, you’re relieved that you’re still affected. Sometimes you wonder how your parent sees your soft heart.

Such thoughts ail you during the day, so you seek a distraction during the night. This one is one of your favorites: a magical trampoline propels you high into the air, so you can fly around, do your favorite stunts, or simply glide down. You understand why humanity likes to dream about flying; you wouldn’t give up your wings for anything in the world. 

You feel the rush of the air around you, the force of nature beating against your wings, ruffling every feather as you try to add another loop. You finish your trick seconds before your feet hit the ground. In your dreams, you can practice new tricks without accidentally hurting yourself. You once sprained your left wing, and it hurt like hell. 

“Bow to me, the queen of flying,” you brag, jumping up and down like a child. 

“Will clapping suffice?” a familiar voice drawls, and you want to wake up this instant. Dream is watching you, his expression amused. You should have noticed his presence. Of course he can sneak inside your dream. 

“I suppose,” you answer, a sheepish smile on your face as you try to tame your disheveled hair, before stopping. Are you trying to impress someone? 

Dream starts to clap, and pride and embarrassment are burning inside you like wildfire. The corners of his mouth twitch, and you hope for your sanity that he doesn’t smile at you; it would be too much.

“You like flying,” Dream simply states, his eyes darting towards your wings, and you nod as you roll your shoulders and your wings, stretching your muscles.

“While flying, I feel free. It’s just me and the sky, and the sky is really good company,” you admit. Is it weird that you just confessed this to Dream of the Endless? Maybe. Do you feel bad? No. Truth is that the sky has become almost a friend to you. 

“Each raven tells me that while they miss their human form, flying is more than a satisfying compensation,” Dream reveals, his eyes shining with fond amusement. Are you just having casual conversation with him? You feel flustered, your heart picking up a pace. Oh no. 

“It’s hard to describe the glee and thrill I feel every time I fly.” You close your eyes, trying to find the right words. You can’t. “I hope that every dreamer gets to experience it here, and that they love it as much as I do. Your realm is a wonder.” You look over the everchanging landscape, each dream tailored to a particular desire and person, and realize how tremendous Dream’s responsibility is. What would humanity be without dreams? What would you be without dreams? 

“I appreciate your words, little star,” Dream says, and your heart skips a beat at the small smile tugging at his lips. Just in that moment, a gust ruffles your feathers, tearing one away. It glides through the air, slowly sinking to the ground, before Dream catches it. It’s a small primary feather, dove gray in color. He inspects if for a moment before putting it inside his pocket. 

You’re speechless in your dream, and even in the waking world, you don’t find the right words.

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

Dream starts to visit your dreams more often, and you start to feel more at ease with him. If he has the time, he visits the library with you, showing you his favorite books. 

You’re sitting on a comfortable leather armchair, waiting for Dream to pick a tale, excitement rushing through you. How lucky are you to have his time and attention?

“Can you read to me?” you ask in a burst of bravery and foolishness, and in that silent moment that follows, you realize that you’ve overstepped your boundaries, a stone falling into your stomach. 

“If you wish me to,” Dream replies, and you as you listen to him, his wonderful voice taking you back into a faraway life, you consider yourself to be the luckiest person in this realm. 

“Your voice truly is dreamy,” you blurt out, finding yourself almost drifting to sleep inside a dream. Having the King of dreams read to you seemingly removes any filter, and you bite your lip. 

“Thanks for the compliment, little star.” 

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

“Yes!” you cheer, pumping your fists into the air as you savor your victory. You decided to race Gregory, Kane and Abel’s adorable gargoyle, and you beat him by a nose. Sweat runs down your face and your wings weigh a ton, but nothing will ever beat this rush. Abel, Cain, and Dream have waited at the finish line, assuring that the winner would be rightfully determined. The racetrack made you start at the entrance of the palace, over the bridge toward the gate and ended in Fiddler’s Green. 

Abel and Kane give you a small pat on your shoulder as they rush towards Gregory, cooing compliments at the creature and cuddling it for performing so well. The gargoyle really gave you a run for your money. Maybe Jessamy would race you, you ponder as you try to catch your breath as dignified as possible.

“You gave the dreamers a spectacular view,” Dream says, a flash of something like pride in his eyes, and your heart swells at his praise. Grinning from ear to ear, you want to throw yourself at him for a moment before decorum and reason stop you. 

“I am glad everyone enjoyed it, and thanks for the praise, King of Dreams,” you reply, playfully bowing before Dream, your voice a mix between teasing and grateful. 

“Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus,” he answers, before inclining his head. “We bow to the queen of flying.” He remembers that particular dream, and you feel your cheeks burn. Something between you and him has shifted, and you feel closer to him. 

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

“You seem happier, little star,” Lucifer Morningstar smiles at you across the table as you dine together. Your parent has always taken the time to engage with you, has always found a moment for your concerns or thoughts. 

“I am happier,” you agree, putting down the fork. “I am happier and well-rested.” Since Morpheus has started to appear in your dreams, you awake every day from a deep slumber, a smile on your face from your previous dream that even hell can’t erase. 

“Is someone courting you?” your parent asks, a knowing look in their eyes. You had short liaisons, that always ended too soon and left you wanting and heartsick. But then again, you prefer your heart to hurt than to never experience affection or love. 

“I don’t know.” You’re suddenly very interested in your golden plate, avoiding their gaze. It just seems presumptuous to state that Morpheus is courting you. Yet you can’t deny that you feel a connection with him. His presence brings you joy. You no longer feel lonely. 

“Know that I have always an open ear for you and that as long as you’re happy, so am I.” Lucifer Morningstar opens their arms, and you go for the embrace. You know that you’re the only soul who feels perfectly secure in their arms, but you don’t care. 

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

You find yourself in Fiddler’s Green and let out a relieved sigh. This place is an oasis, and you’ve spent many dreams lying in the grass or walking through the meadows. 

With your eyes closed and the grass tickling your skin, you hear someone approach. Fighting your curiosity, you keep your eyes closed. The guest sits down next to you, yet you remain unbothered, until you suddenly feel something soft and familiar tickle your skin. You twitch until you can’t fight it any longer and open your eyes. 

Morpheus sits beside you, a dark figure in this patch of green, using your own feather to tickle you! You let out an indignant gasp, before realizing that he kept it. Your mind and your heart don’t know what to do with that revelation. 

“At ease, little star. I bring you a peace offering,” Morpheus says, pointing at the basket in front of him. Did he prepare a picknick for you? He opens it to reveal an assortment of your favorite foods. 

“What a commendable service,” you state, suddenly feeling skittish, pushing down the urge to spread your wings and fly away. This seems like courting. Dream of the Endless doesn’t just prepare a picknick for anyone. 

“Are you courting me?” You remember the first time you’ve flown on your own. Lucifer Morningstar had taken you to a cliff in hell, reassuring you over and over again that he was right here, and that he would catch you. You stood at the edge of the cliff, terror and anticipation raging inside of you. Asking this question feels just like this moment. 

Morpheus doesn’t answer, doesn’t move one muscle, his face as expressionless as an ancient statue, and you want to disappear; you want to disappear and never dream again. You want to take all your foolish hopes and rip them out of your heart. 

“Yes. If you wish me to,” he finally replies, his gaze soft and vulnerable. You let out a relieved giggle and reach for his hand. His slender fingers entwine with yours. 

“I do.” 

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

Every dream felt better than the next. If he found the time, Morpheus even explored the waking world with you. You had finally found someone who would stay, and you no longer felt lonely. You were blissfully happy.

Until Morpheus disappeared.

The Dreaming crumbled, and so did your heart. Your dreams became bleak. 

Dreams and nightmares slowly abandoned their posts, with only you and Lucienne holding onto hope. Where was he? Why did he leave? Neither of you had any answers. 

You were foolish to think that love would stay. Loneliness would forever be your companion. 

Hell couldn’t compare to this torture. Lucifer Morningstar noticed your pain, your change in behavior, and tried to coax out the reason for your misery. You couldn’t say it out loud. Saying out loud that Morpheus was gone would make it irrevocably true. So you didn’t talk about Dream, ignored the rumors you heard in the corners of hell. Thinking about him hurt. 

“I miss having good dreams,” you confessed, as close to the truth as you allowed yourself to be. You never told them that you were in a relationship with Morpheus. You knew that Lucifer Morningstar and Morpheus had ancient history; Morpheus had known them before his fall. Your recalled Lucifer suggesting to Dream to join forces, to ally their realms, only for Dream to respectfully decline. One of the most powerful beings didn’t take kindly to rejection; Dream and your parent were similar in that aspect. You were cautious: you didn’t want to wake any sleeping dogs. 

You missed Morpheus. You aimlessly wandered hell and earth, looking for him. 

A new millennial has started, and you still miss him. A new millennial has started, and every day, you feel another drop of your hope drip away. You were always meant to be lonely. 

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

Something is going on in hell. Every demon has gathered around the palace, looking up at their sovereign. You’re not in a mood for entertainment, perched on one of the many spires, looking down at the gathered masses. 

Whoever has come to hell is no mere visitor, and your curiosity is piqued. You knew that worrying for your parent is unnecessary, and yet you started to listen more closely to the crowd. Realizing that you couldn’t make out what the demons are saying, you fly down, landing on a narrow bridge connecting two towers. 

“Beat Dream into oblivion!” “The Lord of Dreams is weak!” “Who is this feeble Endless compared to the mighty Morningstar?” You keep on listening, but every demon is chanting the same thing: praises of your parent as they seem to be challenged by Dream of the Endless. You can’t believe it. Every heartbeat hurts, as thorns of yearning, sorrow and pain seem to have sprouted inside your chest. 

You fly to another position and while remaining out of their sight, you see your parent standing over Morpheus, who’s lying on the ground, his face gaunt and grey. Your parent has won, as they always do. You tug your wings away, so you don’t do something foolish like flying to his rescue. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t interrupt. Morpheus is on his own. 

In your dreary dreams, you’ve imagined what it would be like to reunite with him. You never expected to find him at Lucifer’s feet. What is Morpheus even doing here? Where had he been? When did he return? And the questions that tears at you with sharp claws, why didn’t he come to you? 

“Hope.” Morpheus whispers the word, and it’s like a sun is rising inside hell, golden light bathing everything as Morpheus rises. Hope. Maybe there is hope for you and Morpheus. 

Your parent is defeated, and Morpheus is safe. You fly away, your wings carrying you upward. You can’t sleep, you can’t find a refuge in your dreams now that Morpheus has returned. You don’t want to stay in hell, with every demon and your parent cursing Morpheus’ name. You don’t want their ire and contempt to poison you; your own emotions are messy enough. 

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

The 21st century is always alive and agleam. Sometimes you miss the times where you could just fly through the sky; nowadays you must look out, so you don’t accidentally collide with a plane. Technology has made it quite complicated to stay under the radar. Connections to humans are even harder: Can I get your number? What do you mean, you don’t have social media? Unfortunately, there is no reception in hell. 

So you wander through the street aimlessly, surrounded by people and yet alone. The blinking lights keep you awake as you continue walking, simply setting one front in front of the other, trying to keep your mind blank. You walk until you reach the outskirts, where buildings give way to nature. 

You wander into a field and tilt your head backwards, looking up at the sky, your friend who has never abandoned you. Nowadays it’s hard to see the stars, and you truly hate light pollution. 

“Little star.” How you have missed this voice. You stare at the sky for a little longer, asking the stars for guidance before moving your head. Morpheus is standing in front of you, and for a moment you want to pinch yourself to make sure this is real. 

“Morpheus,” you simply reply. You want, no, you need him to make the first step, to explain. 

“I have missed you,” he says, his blue eyes full of regret and longing, and he takes a small step closer. You stand still, cautious as usual. While these words sooth your soul, he hasn’t answered your most pestering question. 

“I have missed you too.” You have spent a century missing him. “Why did I have to miss you?” A tear runs down your cheek and you take a shaky breath. 

“My love.” Morpheus crosses the distance between you and him and gently cups your cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch. “I never wanted to leave you. I was captured and imprisoned by humans. I escaped recently.” His eyes, full of longing in one moment, turned glacial in a second, and you feel the wrath rolling off him in cold waves. 

“I am sorry.” I am sorry for doubting you. I am sorry for not looking for you. Morpheus tilts his head forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The affectionate touch is nearly enough to make you spill tears again. A century is a long time, even for immortals. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Morpheus absolves you of your doubts, and you grab his coat, pulling him even tighter. You have been separated long enough. Morpheus chuckles, a deep noise that melts you butter, and you allow yourself to smile. He wraps his arms around you, and you want him to not holy you until you’ve convinced yourself that he won’t leave. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you demand, moving your head so it rests on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. This is real. Morpheus presses his lips against your forehead, a silent promise. 

[mimamongbusowg]

ELEKTRA SET (NETFLIX'S DAREDEVIL)

Daredevil fans, get ready to dive into the world of Elektra with our stunning Black-Red Body Suit and iconic ninja mask. We've meticulously crafted every detail to bring Elektra's fierce and fearless style straight to your Sims universe.

Early access to this exclusive set starts TODAY, giving you a head start on embodying the lethal grace of Elektra herself. Whether your Sims are craving action-packed adventures or striking a pose, this custom content set has you covered. This will be available to the public on September 26.

CAS Preview:

SET INCLUDES:

Custom Thumbnail

Elektra Bodysuit

Elektra Mask

EARLY ACCESS LINK

[bellalovelola]

Meet The Simmer

"Hey there, beautiful souls! I'm a fierce black woman who's got a passion for diving deep into the Sims 4 universe. When I'm in the game, you'll find me creating magic in CAS. It's like stepping onto a canvas and painting my story through unique styles, embracing the beauty of being me.

And let's talk about decorating! That's where I truly shine. I bring life and personality into every nook and cranny, turning a house into a home that tells a story. SAC Extreme Mods? Oh, you know it! Those mods add a spicy kick to my Sims world, pushing the boundaries and making every moment an adventure.

In the Sims, I get to express myself freely, crafting my own narrative and embracing all the endless possibilities. It's not just a game; it's a canvas where I manifest my dreams, and every click brings me closer to creating the life I envision. So, come join me in this journey through the Sims 4, where the magic never stops, and the fun never ends!"

[thefvrious]

affiliated with @ghostsxagain & @atrickrtreat

full name: dakota lee cage nicknames: koda, koda bear, koko, kody birthday: april 1 age: 25 gender/pronouns: cis-male, he/him hometown: tsavo, ca sign: aries religion: non-practicing christian orientation: bisexual occupation: full patch member of kings of chaos motorcycle club family:  dalton cage (father), lacie schwemlein (mother), ryder cage (brother), beckett cage (brother), knox cage (brother) +: confident, enthusiastic, daring, adventurous -: impulsive, reckless, argumentative, short-tempered blurb: the youngest of four raised by a single mother who danced — and sometimes sold her body — for a living, life was interesting for koda growing up. he's always been a bit obnoxious, too loud, and far too loquacious for anyone's liking but he's never changed for anyone. his fierce loyalty and desire to prove himself made him the perfect prospect and member of the criminal enterprise where they're always looking for young, strong, able bodies to continue on the legacy. full bio here

[queen-scribbles]

OC Kiss ~Yearning

(Emiri + Alden; Pillars of Eternity)

---

Of all the people Emiri might have expected to cross her path in the Deadfire, Thayn Alden Brethart was very nearly the bottom of the list. Especially not in the market district of Neketaka.

(Then again, she had run into Adaryc. And Kana. And Aloth. She shouldn’t really be surprised. But she was.)

“What are you doing here?!” the two asked in unison through matching grins.

“This is awful far from Aedyr, isn’t it?” Emiri continued as she leaned in for a hug.

“Business opportunity arose that would only be satisfied in person,” Alden explained, hugging her just as fiercely. “I barely had a week home after my visit with you.” He kissed her cheek and linked their arms when he drew back. They started a leisurely stroll down the street, paused when a gap between buildings gave an unobstructed view of the ocean. “Lyse was... not pleased to lose me again so fast, but this gives her more time to plan the wedding without me underfoot.”

There was a melancholy note to the self-deprecating laughter that had Emiri squeezing his hand, “I’m sure she’d much rather have you underfoot then several oceans away. And hopefully you’ll be with her soon?”

Alden cast a longing look out over the waves as he nodded. “A few days more to get everything signed and sealed and I’ll be on my way back to her. But what of you?” Her arched one blond brow toward the curls that had escaped his ponytail. “You’ve been so settled at Caed Nua, I didn’t think the gods themselves could drag you away. Especially onto a ship.”

Emiri gave a bitter laugh and rubbed the stump of her halo. “Funny you should phrase it like that, my friend...” Without too many gory details, she explained why she was in the Deadfire, and that Caed Nua was currently a very large pile of rubble. “I miss it,” she said softly, staring out over the water in roughly the direction of home.

“I don’t wonder,” Alden replied, just as softly. “Hopefully, you will be able to return home once your business here is concluded. And if there’s anything I can do to help you rebuild...”

She smiled and squeezed his hand in gratitude. “Thank you.” Pressed a kiss to his temple for good measure. “It’s so very far, and I just...”

There were no words for the ache in her chest, the longing to have back what she’d lost. And how she knew, even rebuilt, it would be different. Never the same, couldn’t be.

“I understand.” Alden smiled and leaned back against a tree. “I know sea travel is your idea of torture, but have you had any fun adventures out here?”

“One or two,” Emiri conceded. “If you have time I could regale you...?”

“My dear friend,” Alden grinned. “For you, today, I have nothing but time.”

[astrojulia]

Hello hope you are well, I would like to participate in your Sirentale game.

DOB: 02/03/97 in LA, CA at 12:20pm

I would like the 🐙

Question for you: what is your favorite sea animal?

Thank you so much in advance! -ML 😊💕

Hello Siren! This is an ask related to my Sirentale game that is already closed! So there's no point trying to participate now, as there are no more "spaces". If there is a good interaction, I may open a new game in the future. Kisses from the Sea!

Navigation:   Masterlist✦Ask Rules✦Feedback Tips

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In the mystical realm of Celestial Academy, where knowledge and magic intertwined in harmonious dance, resided a student named ML. This extraordinary academy was unlike any other, for it was a university of the cosmos, where birth charts held the keys to destinies, and the radiant mysteries of the stars were unveiled through scholarly adventures.

ML was an enigmatic figure, their birth chart a labyrinth of profound significance, akin to the unfathomable depths of the ocean. Their journey commenced in the whimsical 1st house, under the auspices of the ever-curious Gemini. Endowed with the gift of versatility and boundless inquisitiveness, ML set forth on a quest to unearth the profound truths of their existence. Her own identity was something that intrigued and confused her in many ways. She knew she could do a lot and yet she didn't know how far she could go. The doubt of whether she was taking the right path always disturbed her because her dreams were many and she didn't know whether she should pursue one or the other.

The 2nd and 3rd houses, bathed in the nurturing embrace of Cancer, bestowed upon ML an exquisite connection to emotions and the profound art of communication. These gifts of empathy became their most potent tools as they navigated the tumultuous waters of the academy's intellectual and emotional challenges.

Yet, it was the 4th house, adorned with the fiery Leo and guarded by the elusive Lilith, where the true heart of ML's journey lay. Their relentless yearning for recognition and the unquenchable desire to conquer inner demons were the formidable trials they confronted. The academy became their grand stage, and they pledged to outshine the sun itself.

In the 5th house, under the meticulous gaze of Virgo, lay the North Node and the fiery Mars in Libra. Here, ML's creative spirit and unwavering passion for justice guided their path. Their adventures led them to unexpected allies and fierce battles, forging bonds that would ultimately shape their destiny.

As they ventured deeper into the 6th house, they encountered Chiron in Scorpio and Pluto in Sagittarius. Here, they faced the wounds of their past and the transformative power of knowledge. ML learned that true strength sprang from the embrace of their vulnerabilities and the relentless pursuit of wisdom hidden within the academy's vast library.

The 7th house, ruled by Sagittarius with the ever-watchful Moon, unveiled the intricacies of relationships. ML's journey through the realm of partnerships tested their optimism and expanded their horizons, teaching them the profound significance of trust and open-mindedness.

In the 8th house, Capricorn's unyielding influence was unmistakable. With Pallas, Mercury, and a steely determination, ML delved into the concealed truths of their psyche. They unearthed their deepest desires and learned to harness the power of their mind. It's fair? Is right? Will hard work really always win over natural gifting? These are questions that rub against our student's face.

The 9th house, a haven of Aquarius, was adorned with Neptune, Venus, Ceres, Jupiter, and Uranus, a realm of innovation and enlightenment. ML's path led them to challenge conventional wisdom and embrace the eccentricities that set them apart. Our student needs to be careful not to get lost in their ego here, as there will come a point where they will think that they already knows too much and is better than others and they will be tripped up by theacademy, showing that they are in fact, just another student.

The 10th house, ruled by Aquarius, thrust ML into the spotlight. They aspired to revolutionize the world through their unique perspective and unwavering determination.

In the 11th house, Pisces' gentle sway met the discipline of Saturn in Aries. Here, ML formed bonds with like-minded dreamers, learning the immeasurable value of collaboration and the profound significance of manifesting their ideals into reality, these bound are hard to get since your student feels pretty lonely in their life, as it need to go get their friends because they never goes to see them.

The 12th house, Aries' final frontier with Juno guarding its deepest secrets, was the ultimate crucible. In the depths of their own soul, ML discovered the unyielding courage to confront their fears and embrace their authentic self.

The academy's enigmatic octopus emblem served as the guiding light through ML's profound journey. Each house and planetary placement unraveled a piece of their soul, and through each adventure, they evolved into a wiser, stronger, and more profoundly attuned individual. Their birth chart was not merely a map but a tale of profound self-discovery—a Sirentale that whisked them on a riveting and thought-provoking expedition into the most enigmatic corners of their soul.

As they emerged from the hallowed halls of Celestial Academy, ML departed, ready to face the boundless expanse of the world. Armed with newfound wisdom and an indomitable spirit, they were poised to fulfill their unique destiny, leaving a profound mark on the cosmos.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[precambrianhottopic]

TELLME ABOUY YOUR OCSSS PLEASE PELASE PLEASE

HI HELLO HEY THERE!!!! YOU DIDNT SPECIFY WHICH OC YOU WANTED TO HEAR ABOUT SO YOU GET TO HEAR ABOUT ALL OF THEM!!!! (not ALL of them but most of them- also im going to use a lot of terminology from my ocverse and explain none of it!! sorry!!)

two million words about my ocs under the cut

Era 1

Exikas Bloodreed (he/him)- a blood elf scholar and servant to two Tempulsars. He was the first to figure out that Thrae was doomed to destroy itself and died trying (and failing) to stop it. I like to call him Mister Hubris!!

Era 2

Evie (she/her)- Human paladin, I wrote her character because i thought the concept of a guy finding a legendary sword that no man could wield, being able to wield it, and just going "oh fuck i guess im trans now". She ends up sacrificing herself to save her valley from a blight.

Callister (he/him)- Fellow paladin and Evie's closest friend. He's like the fantasy version of that one dude who brings his guitar everywhere, if that guy had a huge sword.

Joseph Anderglow (he/him)- Noble heir turned gunslinging mercenary, left his wife to go on this adventure and also because he did not love her and still feels really guilty about it. Callister's future husband.

Era 3 (i have SO many characters for this era but youre only hearing about a few of them)

Gwynlais, The Frozen Prince (he/him)- first son of Kantomere ( and the only son of Gelfia, removed from the Draconic Homeland at an early age and grew up apart from his brothers. Arguably the rightful heir to the draconic throne. Really sweet, spent his life learning about the world.

Throxen, The Fern Prince (he/him)- the middle brother, son of Kantomere and Langalia, currently in line to inherit the throne. A fierce fighter and honorable dragon.

Elsewynd, Prince of Clouds (he/him)- the youngest of the three brothers and Grand Archivist of Drakenspiel. Awkward, flamboyant, and excitable.

Gelfia, The Starlit Despot (she/her)- Kantomere's former mate, a vicious and power-hungry dragon. She was banished for killing Hulamino's (Kantomere's brother) mate and son, and is currently at war with Drakenspiel because she wants Gwynlais to ascend to the throne.

Kantomere, King of Storms (he/him)- Draconic King. A strong, stoic, and fair leader, he still harbors guilt for what Gelfia did.

Era 4

Topher (they/them)- mostly-human, runs a small store in Star Creek during the summers and is one of the only humans allowed to stay there. Bitten by an angel last year, currently fighting off that infection. Anxious but friendly.

The Wizard (he/him)- half-woodfolk, protector of Star Creek and a powerful potionsmith. Created the magical protections surrounding Star Creek, removed its old, corrupt leader from power, and procMute. Aloof and eccentric. Topher's boyfriend.

Alice (she/it)- ex-journalist, fully converted angel. Got bitten by an angel while writing a piece on a nearby town overrun by an angelic infestation and REALLY leaned into the whole "Angel of Death" thing after the fact. Aggressive, violent, and fiercely protective.

Era 5 (this is my favorite era!! im telling you about all the characters i made up for it!! some of the descriptions are real short though)

Lucinder Aldebaran (she/her)- Shapeshifting Commander of DAWNBREAKER, a diplomat, former Creation Guardian, and master strategist. I wrote a whole thing about her a little while back and you can find that here.

Olivia Morcan (she/her)- Darksteel elf and leader of the Creation Guard. Tormented by all the people she let die and desperate to sacrifice herself. World's first childless female absentee father. Lucinder's former rival, they fuck sometimes. I love her so much.

Figus Summerpelt (he/they)- Woodfolk, Lucinder's childhood friend. Pretty much stays out of DAWNBREAKER and lives with his partner in a small cottage at the edge of The Hollow. Calm, wise historian.

Calyphonicus Blister (he/him)- Transgender. Half-Jackal. Doomed by the narrative. Flying too close to the sun. What CAN'T he do. Leader of project CATALYST, feels woefully unqualified for his job and is permanently and horribly overworked.

Thorn (they/them)- skeleton, DAWNBREAKER's airspace commander. Nonbinary because they've been dead for so long they forgot they had a gender. Watched their entire friend group become "boring" and is terrified of the same thing happening to them.

DAWNBREAKER's coolest undead (thorn's former friend group, I'm lumping them all together because I can) Xelia (she/her) vampire slut and professional Hot Woman, Hawk (he/him) chill stoner zombie dude, and Ambrosius West (he/she) angel from the moon and Hawk's boyfriend.

OKAY!! I THINK THAT'S ALL OF THEM!! I missed a few, but I don't have much characterization done for any of them so its fiiiine also i think ive maybe written enough about my ocs. for now.

[cfivcrykeys]

(—) ★ spotted!! CHRISTIAN O'MALLEY on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 36 year old looks like CHRIS EVANS, but i don’t really see it. while the RECORD LABEL OWNER/PRODUCER/PIANIST/COMPOSER is known for being AMBITIOUS my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be RESERVED i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song UNHOLY by SAM SMITH and KIM PETRAS {he/him / male} - penned by SUSHI, 27, FEMALE, SHE/HER (Jordana Kennedy’s Husband Wanted Connection)

BASICS

Name: Christian Greyson O'Malley Nicknames/Alias: Chris Face Claim: Chris Evans Age: 36 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Date of Birth: February 20th, Pisces Living in: Los Angeles, CA Nationality: American Occupation: Music Producer/Pianist/Composer/Owner of White Wolf Records

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: Confidence: feeling or showing confidence in oneself; self-assured. Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. Courageous: able to face and deal with danger or fear without flinching Adventurous: willing to undertake new and daring enterprises. Self-Aware: having conscious knowledge of one’s own character and feeling. Ambitious: having or showing a strong desire and determination to succeed. Adaptable: able to adjust to new conditions. Meticulous: showing great attention to detail; very careful and precise. Flaws/Weaknesses: Stubborn: having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. Blunt: uncompromisingly forthright. Reserved: slow to reveal emotion or opinions. Jealous: 1) feeling or showing suspicion of someone’s unfaithfulness in a relationship. 2) fiercely protective or vigilant of one’s rights or possessions. Phlegmatic: (of a person) having an unemotional and stolidly calm disposition. Stoic: a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.

Favourite colour? Blue Favourite foods? Bacon, Chicken Parmesan, Zuppa Toscana (All-time favorite food), Creamy Tuscan Shrimp, Arroz con Pollo, Sausage Gravy and Biscuits, Buffalo Chicken Pizza, Salmon, Smoked Barbecue Ribs, Chipotle Favourite music? Classical but he does listen to a whole mix of genres considering his line of work Favorite books? Thrillers, Mysteries Fears: tbd Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Kenneth O'Malley (Father) Unnamed O'Malley (Mother) Siblings: Unnamed O'Malley (Younger Sister, Wanted Connection) Dexter O'Malley (Younger Brother)

Children: Micah Kennedy (21-year-old Step-son) Maiya Kennedy (21-year-old Step-daughter) Wednesday Kennedy (5-year-old Daughter)

Other family: Jonathan Kennedy (Father-in-law) Kathy Kennedy (Mother-in-law) Dominique Kennedy (Sister-in-law) Mackenzie Kennedy-Holder (Sister-in-law) Jonathan Kennedy (Brother-in-law) Winnifred Kennedy (Sister-in-law) Isabella Kennedy (Sister-in-law) Spouse: Jordana Kennedy (Wife) Signed Clients: Dexter O'Malley, TBD Friends: TBD

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 6′0″ 187 lbs Tall and Muscular Hair: Long, Dark brown Eye Colour: Blue Distinguishing Marks: N/A

Accomplishments: 5 Grammy’s for Producer of the year, 3 Grammy’s for Composer of the year

Regrets: TBD Secrets: TBD

HISTORY

The oldest of three children and the most practical of them, Christian did his best to stay out of trouble. His time was occupied with his studies, basketball, and music (mainly piano; headcanon: Christian fell in love with piano after seeing Phantom of the Opera).

He had never really planned on taking his music anywhere opting to go to business school while minoring in music production.

Christian’s relationship with his father was somewhat tense if only for the fact that he showed real promise on the piano, something that Christian was extremely passionate for but assured his father that he wouldn’t do more than just enjoy it as a hobby not wanting to further strain their relationship.

When Christian eventually applied for college’s, the revelation that he was planning on minoring in music production, furthered strained his relationship with his father, having decided that putting what he enjoyed on the back burner just to make his father happy was no longer something that he wished to do.

He moved out the minute he turned 18, moving into a small condo with his best friend where, together, they produced music for local artists in their small garage.

His sophomore year of college found Christian diving into piano composition, releasing his first two songs within months of each other and fueling his desire to join the music industry any way possible.

Upon graduation, Christian and his friend made the movie to LA to begin their business venture together thus the creation of White Wolf Records was born, starting off small as they had in their garage back in their hometown. The rise of their local artists blossoming into stars building their reputation higher and higher until he was where he is today with 3 grammys for producer of the year.

At 22, he was approached after a piano performance, having a few compositions out by now and was asked if he would like to co-compose a song for a video game that was coming out and the creation of Phoenix for League of Legends was born.

It would be a little less than 5 years after they moved to LA that his best friend was in a plane crash and ultimately passed away. The loss hit Christian hard and like always he turned to his piano for comfort and therapy, composing For Those We Have Lost inspired by this loss.

Christian had dated here and there, some relationships longer than others but none really going quite where he wanted them to.

That was until 2016, when he met Jordana Kennedy. After only two months together, Christian knew that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, something he hadn’t felt with the others before her.

She was the inspiration behind multiple compositions, though most were written during their separation when he had filed for divorce after discovering her infidelity while they were expecting their first child together a year into their marriage.

It would be 2 years, before Christian would finally give in and agree to marriage counseling, knowing he still loved her more than anyone and wanting to provide a normal family life for their daughter and not wanting to lose the bond he had formed with Jordana’s twins.

While it has been a hard road, Christian has genuinely forgiven Jordana for what she did and has been really working towards trusting her again and while they aren’t quite there yet, he’s never been happier with life.

More to come as I plot

Career Accomplishments

Kiss The Rain (Inspired by Jordana)

River Flows In You

Girl On An Iceberg (Inspired by Jordana)

La valse d'Amélie (First composition at age 19)

Winter (The four Seasons)

Summer (The Four Seasons)

Comptine d'un autre été (Amélie) (Second Composition also at 19)

Carol Of The Bells

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (The Nutcracker Suite) (Inspired by Wednesday Kennedy)

Hallelujah (Co-composed)

League of Legends - Phoenix (Co-composed at 22)

Game Of Thrones Main Theme (Co-composed)

The Avengers Main Theme (Co-composed)

Flight Of The Silverbird (Late night composition with Star Sky)

Star Sky (Late night composition with Flight Of The Silverbird)

Black Panther Main Theme (Co-composed)

Wonder Woman Main Theme (Co-composed)

Wonder Woman: 1984 Main Theme (Co-composed)

Her Carriage Awaits (Wedding song for Jordana)

Illusions (Composed during separation from Jordana)

For Those We Have Lost (Composed after his best friend’s death)

Isolation (Composed during separation from Jordana)

No Words (Composed during separation from Jordana)

Reminisce

When First We Met (Inspired by Jordana)

The Hurt That Can Breathe (Composed during separation from Jordana)

My Only Regret

Promise Me This (Composed for The Theory of Relativity)

Nothing Without You (Composed for The Theory of Relativity)

Relativity (Composed for The Theory of Relativity)

Great Expectations (Composed for The Theory of Relativity)

Still Hurting (Composed for The Last Five Years, performed by Anna Kendrick)

Moving Too Fast (Composed for The Last Five Years, performed by Jeremy Jordan)

Always Remember Us This Way (Composed for A Star Is Born, performed by Lady Gaga)

You Are Not From Here

Little Serenade (Inspired by Valentine Laurent)

You Raise Me Up

Tears in Heaven (Composed for his mother, a letter to her husband after his death)

Let Her Go (Inspired by Valentine Laurent)

Before You Go (Inspired by Valentine Laurent)

 Dance With My Father (Dedicated to his mother and Keira in light of father’s death)

Hamilton (Broadway Composition; first performance in 2015, age 28)

Alexander Hamilton

Aaron Burr, Sir

My Shot

The Story Of Tonight

The Schuyler Sisters

Farmer Refuted

You'll Be Back

Right Hand Man

A Winter's Ball

Helpless

Satisfied

The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

Wait For It

Stay Alive

Ten Duel Commandments

Meet Me Inside

That Would Be Enough

Guns and Ships

History Has Its Eyes On You

Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)

What Comes Next

Dear Theodosia

Non-Stop

What'd I Miss

Cabinet Battle #1

Take A Break

Say No To This

The Room Where It Happens

Schuyler Defeated

Cabinet Battle #2

Washington On Your Side

One Last Time

I Know Him

The Adams Administration

We Know

Hurricane

The Reynolds Pamphlet

Burn

Blow Us All Away

Stay Alive (Reprise)

It's Quiet Uptown

Election of 1800

Your Obedient Servant

Best of Wives and Best of Women

The World Was Wide Enough

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Journals (In Progress)

How To Save A Life 4:11

The Scientist 4:11

One More Light 4:13

Here Without You 3:56

Fix You 4:16

Chasing Cars 4:19

Numb 3:41 (written for dear old dad with the help of Dex O’Malley)

Broken 3:26 (ft. Esmerelda Monroe)

Be Alright 3:14

Iris 3:01

Angel 4:19

Lips Of An Angel 4:00

Stay 3:29

[xasha777]

In the year 2743, the galaxy teetered on the brink of collapse. An ancient prophecy foretold the rise of an overlord who would bring both destruction and salvation. This being, known only as the Blue Monarch, had been lost to time until now.

Kaleb of Axum, a renowned historian and adventurer, was deep in the archives of the Galactic Council. His quest for knowledge about the ancient kingdoms had led him to uncover the hidden history of the Blue Monarch. Axum, his home planet, was known for its rich historical records and cultural artifacts, many of which held secrets long forgotten by the rest of the galaxy.

Kaleb discovered a series of texts describing a powerful warrior-king who once ruled a distant world. The texts spoke of a being with skin as blue as the deepest oceans and eyes that burned with the fire of a thousand suns. This warrior, adorned in ancient armor and crowned with jewels of unimaginable power, was said to have the ability to control the very fabric of reality.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity and a sense of destiny, Kaleb embarked on a perilous journey to find the lost kingdom of the Blue Monarch. He traveled through war-torn star systems, navigated treacherous asteroid fields, and braved the uncharted regions of space. His quest led him to the planet of Drakonis, a world shrouded in eternal night and inhabited by fierce, primitive tribes.

Upon landing on Drakonis, Kaleb was met with hostility. The tribal leaders, wary of outsiders, initially refused to assist him. However, Kaleb’s knowledge of their ancient customs and his display of respect for their traditions won them over. He learned that the Blue Monarch was not a mere legend but a revered deity, believed to have been the last hope of their ancestors.

Guided by the tribes, Kaleb ventured into the heart of Drakonis, where the ruins of the Blue Monarch’s citadel lay hidden. The citadel, a vast and imposing structure carved into the mountainside, was adorned with intricate carvings depicting the Monarch’s reign and his battles against cosmic forces. As Kaleb explored the ruins, he felt an inexplicable connection to the place, as if he were meant to be there.

In the deepest chamber of the citadel, Kaleb discovered a massive statue of the Blue Monarch, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. As he approached, the ground trembled, and the statue began to crack and crumble. From within the shattered stone emerged a figure, towering and imposing, with blue skin and eyes that burned with an intense golden light. The Blue Monarch had awakened.

Kaleb, awestruck, could hardly believe his eyes. The Monarch’s presence was overwhelming, radiating power and authority. The Monarch spoke, his voice resonating through the chamber, “You have awakened me, Kaleb of Axum. The galaxy stands on the brink of chaos, and my time has come once again.”

Kaleb, finding his voice, replied, “Great Monarch, the galaxy needs your wisdom and strength. The forces of darkness threaten to engulf us all.”

The Blue Monarch nodded solemnly. “I shall reclaim my throne and bring order to the cosmos. But I cannot do this alone. You, Kaleb, shall be my herald, my voice among the stars. Together, we shall unite the fractured realms and restore balance.”

And so, Kaleb of Axum and the Blue Monarch embarked on a new quest. They traveled from world to world, rallying the oppressed and challenging the tyrants who sought to enslave the galaxy. With each victory, the legend of the Blue Monarch grew, and hope began to flourish once more.

Under the leadership of the Blue Monarch and the guidance of Kaleb, the galaxy slowly began to heal. The ancient prophecy was fulfilled, not through destruction, but through the rebirth of a forgotten hero and the unwavering resolve of a historian from Axum. The stars shone brighter, and the future, once shrouded in darkness, now gleamed with the promise of a new dawn.

[fierce-sims]

created some sims I intend to use for my Downtown... feel free to suggest names bc I haven't come up with any yet... they just have placeholder names vamp butch and woof woof dilf 😭😭😭 iconic

[madhurdayblog]

Unlocking the Mysteries of Madhur matka: A Journey into the World of Online Gaming

Unveiling Madhur matka: Where Fantasy Meets Reality

Have you ever dreamed of stepping into a world where fantasy meets reality? A place where your imagination knows no bounds, and adventure awaits at every turn? Welcome to madhur matka – a virtual universe that transcends the boundaries of traditional online gaming. Imagine a realm where you can explore mystical landscapes, battle fierce creatures, and embark on epic quests, all from the comfort of your own home.

The Essence of Madhur matka: An Immersive Experience Like No Other

In the vast expanse of the gaming universe, Madhur matka stands out as a beacon of innovation and creativity. But what sets it apart from the myriad of other online games? Madhur matka isn't just a game; it's an immersive experience that transports players to a realm where the lines between reality and fantasy blur.

Cutting-edge Graphics: Prepare to be awestruck by the stunning visuals that bring the world of Madhur matka to life. From lush forests to towering mountains, every inch of this virtual universe is meticulously crafted to captivate your senses.

Dynamic Gameplay: Say goodbye to monotony as Madhur matka offers dynamic gameplay that keeps you on the edge of your seat. Whether you're engaging in heart-pounding battles or solving intricate puzzles, every moment in Madhur matka is an adventure waiting to unfold.

Interactive Storytelling: Dive deep into captivating storylines that will keep you hooked from start to finish. With branching narratives and meaningful choices, the world of Madhur matka is yours to shape as you see fit.

Navigating the Terrain: How to Get Started

So, you're ready to embark on your journey into the enchanting world of Madhur matka. But where do you begin? Fear not, fellow adventurer, for I am here to guide you through the first steps of your epic quest.

Create Your Avatar: The first step in your Madhur matka journey is to create your avatar. Choose from a wide array of customization options to craft a character that reflects your unique personality and style.

Explore Your Surroundings: Once you've entered the world of Madhur matka, take some time to explore your surroundings. From bustling cities to hidden dungeons, there's always something new to discover in this ever-expanding universe.

Embark on Quests: Ready to test your mettle? Embark on quests that will challenge your skills and push you to your limits. Whether you're battling fierce monsters or uncovering ancient treasures, every quest brings you one step closer to becoming a legend in Madhur matka.

Connect with Other Players: Don't forget to forge alliances with other players on your journey. Team up with friends to tackle challenging quests together or engage in friendly competition in the game's various multiplayer modes.

The Evolution of Online Gaming: Madhur matka Leads the Way

In a world where technology is constantly evolving, online gaming has emerged as a cultural phenomenon that transcends age, gender, and nationality. And at the forefront of this digital revolution stands Madhur matka – a shining example of innovation and ingenuity in the gaming industry.

Just as the ancient goddess Venus captivated the hearts and minds of mortals with her beauty and charm, Madhur matka captivates players with its unparalleled depth and complexity. Much like a celestial body orbiting the sun, Madhur matka orbits the gaming landscape, casting its radiant light upon all who dare to venture into its domain.

Embrace the Adventure: Your Journey Awaits

As you embark on your journey into the enchanting world of Madhur matka, remember this: the possibilities are endless, and the adventure is yours to shape. So, gather your courage, sharpen your skills, and prepare to immerse yourself in a universe unlike any other.

Madhur matka awaits. Are you ready to answer the call?

Crafted by an experienced content writer, this article is your gateway to the captivating world of Madhur matka. Embark on an adventure like no other and unleash your imagination in this immersive online gaming experience.

[raonaid]

Hey, Have you entered Jade lee's giveaway to win Dangerous Desires: Enter to Win a $35 Amazon Gift Card from Lindsay McKenna yet? If you refer friends you get more chances to win :) https://wn.nr/FbwTYz3

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 14

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  KESLA

Thorin … The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley.  I still can’t believe my luck, this whole detour has just been one continuous wild ride.

It’s true, my da brought me up on stories of the fortunes of the men and women who graduated from his training and then made good using it on the battlefield, and sometimes off it too.  Other stories about the men he served with in his own time too, but … no, ultimately it was the younger warriors who came before me that really fascinated me, the ones who benefitted from the teachings of Edhril Shoon after he retired, who became as great a legacy as the name he earned for himself using Hefdred.  Gods know there are some genuinely illustrious names among ‘em.

None who held more of an allure for me than the Hellcat, though.  Here was a woman to truly aspire to be like when I was growing up.  Fierce, deadly, courageous and dutiful, loyal to her friends and the flag she fought to defend, the very epitome of a Knight of Rundao.  Sure, it helped that this particular knight was a woman, she was someone I could admire despite the fact that I could never have that myself.  Not in the way she did, at least.  I was common born, and the laws of Rundao said that no common blood woman could serve in the military at all.  That was only the province of highborn ladies who could be knighted as well as their brothers.  The closest I could ever dream to get was to maybe serve in the militias when I was old enough, which meant that the only time I would ever see real combat was if Tabaphic itself were to be invaded.  Cruel as irony eventually proved to be in that regard …

The only other avenue open to me in that regard was, also ironically, much like the path I eventually did choose – to become a mercenary, a sellsword hiring my services out as a warrior for pay in the makeshift companies that became affectionately known as the Irregulars.  Sometimes they’d even see real battle bolstering the real Rundao army, but they were mostly reserved for scouting, skirmishes or stealth missions, only deploying on an actual battlefield as reinforcements if things got truly desperate.  It broke my heart every time my father told me that I would never be allowed to actually serve as a man-at-arms the way he did, but never more than when it finally sank in for real.  By the time I was twelve and I was routinely beating the all other boys in my class they all agreed with every officer who would stop by to observe, that the Rundao Regulars would miss out on a hell of an asset because of stupid tradition, and da felt the same.

I never gave up on the dream, though, that one day I might actually cross swords with an enemy of my country in some bloody campaign and find myself fighting alongside the Hellcat herself.  That she might actually see me in the fight, and admire my form.  And, in later years, I began to imagine maybe she might start thinking other things as well, that might lead to something else in the night after the battle was done …

Well I was fourteen when I started fantasising about that, I’d been well aware for a few years already that I had no sexual interest at all in any of the boys I trained with, no matter how pretty or cool or capable I might have considered them.  Never mind that I had no idea what Thura Vezrim actually looked like, mostly I just thought up my personal ideal based on what I found attractive in a girl at the time and just projected that onto her.  That would always get my fingers working between my legs in the night, and I’d sleep real soundly after I came.

Thura Vezrim … yeah, she really was the ideal, and not just in that way for me, either.  She was barely seventeen when she graduated, and within six months she was at the Northern Front and riding in hard cavalry charges against the Terrors’ lines.  Before she was twenty she was leading her own special squad of tough elite knights, with a whole hand-picked pack of Irregulars backing them up, and over the next five years earned herself quite the reputation.  The Tektehrans came to fear her name alone, because she had as shrewd a tactical mind as she had lethal skill with a blade.

Then came Kumehn Valley.  The Northern Campaign had been raging hot for years, the Terrors constantly trying to find any crack in our lines to try and push in for a viable invasion, and there they came bloody close to finally making it.  If their distracting feint ten miles to the east had been any more effective at drawing the majority of Rundao’s forces into open battle they might actually have made it through the deep, narrow hidden gorge in the Reaches and outflanked our main force.  The lion’s share of the Rundao army would’ve been crushed between two advancing waves and only the reserves and militias would’ve been left between the Terrors’ vanguard and the Lowlands.  It would’ve been a fucking bloodbath.

Except for Thura Vezrim and her Unbroken, as her bloody little band had become known.  For three days they held the pass, fifty against ten thousand, with only the narrow, twisting uneven ground they had at their advantage keeping the Terrors from just overwhelming ‘em.  That being said, if it had been any other fifty soldiers I doubt they’d have pulled it off – Thura and her Unbroken fought like demons, and for every one of ‘em that fell they left a hundred of the enemy bloody on the ground.  By the time the scout they’d sent to alert the reserves of the attempted infiltration made it back with substantial reinforcements the Unbroken were almost done, and Thura was holding the pass nearly on her own.  It was almost too late.

They essentially retired her after that.  They had to.  She was in a bad way, nothing that she couldn’t recover from and come back just as strong, but command decided that she had more than earned her rest from the battlefield after that, and in the end I guess it finally hit home for her that it was probably for the best.  Those three days took far more toll on her than just the physical wear and damage.  She’d lost almost all her heard-earned friends in that battle, only six others made it out with her while their reinforcements were busy pushing the Terrors back, and for six months after she woke up every night screaming from dark, bloody nightmares.  So they shipped her back to Tabaphic and once she was done healing they celebrated her as a true hero of Rundao for a whole month, then sent her home to Untermer for some well-earned rest.  While her legend grew all across Rundao and beyond.

The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley, who held back ten thousand Terrors for three days with just fifty fighters behind her.  You couldn’t make this shit up …

She’d already been married before that final deployment, but her husband was wounded less than six months before Kumehn Valley, and losing his right arm taking the breach at Livibar had really put paid to his own military career.  So when she came home he spent the first three weeks just putting her back together the rest of the way inside her head, and then they started making babies.  After that when she deployed again it was always well behind the lines, promoted to staff headquarters and never again allowed to raise her sword in battle, but by then it suited her well enough, even if she did find herself missing it every day.  So when she finally mustered out she went without complaint, and more than one sigh of relief.  She was a mother now, she’d left battle behind.

Terth Relusk, a middling, somewhat awkward scion of House Gadran who had finally found his purpose and confidence with a sword in his hand had become a knight of some small repute himself when they met.  He knew she was well out of his league, but he pursued her all the same, but in truth he really didn’t have to work as hard as he did to win her hand, Thura fell in love the moment she met him.  But while she was fierce and bold in battle, she was almost cripplingly shy when it came to love, so it took her a long time to actually make it clear to Terth that she was already his, and while he was also a keen tactician he was almost painfully dim in social matters.  So their courtship was clumsy, embarrassing and largely unnecessary, but at least once he got it into his thick head as well that he actually had her heart they became largely inseparable, at least outside of deployment.

They spent most of their collective time on leave in their rooms, making up for lost time, so once they were both home for good it didn’t take long for their family to start growing.  Then, a month before his second daughter was born, Terth fell ill with the Black Waste, a nasty little slow-developing souvenir from the Campaign, and they had to confine him to the loft rooms of the manor, quarantined from everyone he loved.  Mara never even got a chance to meet her father before he died, struggling for almost two years as he wasted way, with his skin taking on the colour and consistency of ancient rotten leather while his body withered to a grimy, rasping husk that could barely move in its bed.  They had to completely gut the rooms after he passed, and had to burn his body where it lay, so he never even got a real funeral.  If it hadn’t been for the children, Thura almost certainly would’ve passed on from a broken heart within weeks from the grief, and a part of her did die that day.

It was the children that saved her.  Keeping them from falling into a funk along with her was what kept her from disintegrating into her own grief, so she just carried on training Deriel, and then Pela too once she started to show her own aptitude through play.  She only started Thadeon’s lessons in the last year, but he’s proving as precocious as his siblings, so she fully expects Mara to follow in the great family tradition before long herself.

“The only reason I didn’t forbid any of it the day their father died is because I doubt any of my own children will ever see a real battlefield themselves.”  Thura sighs as she settles into her office chair behind the massive leather-topped oak desk in her expansive study, looking as weary from the telling of her story now as from the energetic bout she recently fought with me.  “Unless the Occupation ends while they’re still young I don’t see any chance of their generation being permitted to serve in any kind of military fashion under the current administration.  The Terrors are too cautious to risk employing soldiers they can’t be a hundred percent certain they can trust.”

“Sounds about right.”  I don’t take a seat in the room’s impressively soft, plush-upholstered furniture yet, instead starting to make a slow circuit of the room as my attention is drawn to the various trophies arrayed around it.  Some from her family’s past, I’m sure, but I don’t doubt more than a few of these are mementos of her own time in the service, and I’m already fascinated by the possibilities of what I could potentially find in here.  “Honestly, the only reason we can keep doing our work’s cuz they ain’t cracked down on mercs the same way they have on anything more organised.”

“That’s because the Terrors have no interest in being trouble-hunters for the populace as well as peacekeeping it, so they allow the people they’re oppressing to hire people like you to keep the wolves from their doors, both literally and in a more … supernatural sense.”  Thura takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh as she just languishes for a moment, then pushes herself upright again so she can go to the cut crystal decanters set out in the wet bar in the corner.  “It’s not the smartest move on their part, if you ask me.”

“How come?”  Art asks as he settles into one of the armchair, dumping his wrapped swordbelt beside his feet.

“Cuz ‘least a third o’ the sellswords out there are remnants of Freedom Legion they didn’t get in the Purge.”  I turn right back to what I’m doing as I answer him, preferring to turn my attention to an impressive selection of weapons hung on the wall.  “If resistance ever stirred up again half the warriors that’d be fighting in it have had a whole lot of on-the-job practice this past decade to keep ‘em sharp.”

“How about your ladyship?”  Dumoli surprises me with that question, and I turn to take him in for a moment before looking at Thura, who’s watching him too with a crystal tumbler in one hand while she’s resting to other on a decanter she ain’t yet picked up.  Her expression is … interesting.  She ain’t offended in the slightest by the question, despite the fact that, given the conversation, its context is already abundantly clear.

After a moment she smiles, finally slipping the fat stopper out of the neck of the bottle and setting it aside on the bar.  Her eyes shift to me then, and that smile seems to grow a little, as if she can already see right through me to what I’m thinking now.  “Personally, I’d be all for it too.  If the Legion started up again tomorrow I’d sign up in a heartbeat.”

Thorin … I could kiss her right now.  It’s interesting, when I met her earlier, I have to admit that, despite being, rather unavoidably, initially starstruck that my own personal hero was right in front of me, once I got past all that, I started to grow a little sceptical.  Oh, I had no doubt she was the real deal, I’d already seen what she could do on a training floor … no, it’s just that she’s not at all what I pictured when I stroked myself to an orgasm in my bed at night.  I dunno … maybe I really did expect something more like Janna, just with more muscles.

Not that she ain’t attractive to me, mind.  She’s clearly looked after herself over the years, still lean and trim and very athletic, lithe and svelte where I was perhaps expecting more burly, robust strength, so in the end she’s more like Shay.  She’s got great bones, too, and while she has one hell of a scar marking her face it just adds to her air of danger, but then I’ve always been someone who appreciates the power of a good scar.  The corner of it manages to curve the left corner of her mouth up into a subtle permanent smirk, but it’s mostly just striking, and she still has both her eyes.  She keeps her hair cropped short, though, likely an affectation from her service she’s never been able to get rid of, but it suits her.  Clearly she has more important things to concern herself with.

To be honest, I do still find her attractive, but in a different way now.  It’s less that she’s sexy, which she definitely is, more that she’s just … well, she’s a lot like me.  This much has become abundantly clear in the time I’ve spent around her – she don’t have time for bullshit, she just says what she thinks, and I like that kind of unflinching honesty, I always thought it was the best way to approach things.  But she’s not stupid with it, I suspect she’s lived as long as she has as a prominent, well-known veteran in the Occupation because she knows well enough how important it is to lie her arse off when it’s to the benefit of her family’s continued security.  She’s made it abundantly clear that nothing matters more to her than her children’s survival and wellbeing.

That being said, in friendly company like this she don’t go to any pains at all to hide the fact that she has no love at all for the Terrors.  It’s no great surprise she holds no office in the current Provisional government, despite her high rank in Rundao nobility – I don’t think the Terrors could ever tolerate the Hellcat holding a position of authority in their Occupation.  So she simply tends her family fortune and interests, and the properties and legacy of her house, in the hopes that, when this storm eventually passes, her children, or their children at least, can inherit something better.  Or at least that’s what she likes to let them think.

We never knew who the highborn supporters we had in the nobility were when the Legion was still going, it was just safer that way.  But now that I’ve met her, I know there’s no way that Thura Vezrim wasn’t one of ‘em, probably her husband too.  Her words now are just confirmation.

“I … I have to … is this …”  Looking at the weapons mounted on her wall now, I just go ahead and ask.  “I’m sorry, but –”

“Yes, it is.”  Thura’s smile grows more indulgent now.  “And yes you may.”

“Oh … gods, you mean…”  Feeling like a small, excited child being treated to something truly special, I reach out with hesitant hands and very gently lift the sheathed longsword from its mounting on the wall.  It’s no larger or heavier than Hefdred, but … I don’t know, maybe it’s just the moment, but somehow it feels like more of a genuine weight to me.

Turning it over carefully in my hands, I curl my fingers around the somewhat worn, use-softened leather binding the hilt, then stop, looking back at her now.  Thura just nods, still smiling, and I take a very deliberate breath before slowly drawing the sword from its scabbard.  Much like I do every time I tend to my own blade, I hold it out at arm’s length and look down the edge, then turn it over and do the same, intensely deliberate now in my inspection.

It's a beautiful piece of work, of similar style to my father’s bastard sword, just a little more richly appointed, the guard and pommel fashioned in somewhat battered bronze rather than the simple heavy burnished steel of my own.  The blade is a little wider, the point coming to a more focused triangular tip than Hefdred’s more tapered stiletto-fine point, but it’s no less sharp, and I’d know this perfectly tempered dark metal anywhere.  “This is dwarven steel.”

“Yes, it is.”  She starts walking toward me now, along the wall at the edge of the room, holding two tumblers full of dark amber liquid.  “The best in the world.  Your father swore by his, so when I had need of my own after graduation I refused to accept anything less.  I went to the Warforges in Haalisbenh and commissioned one especially, made to measure.”  She holds one glass out to me.  “Gamirred.  I named it after an ancient warrior, from the legend of before the Sundering.  In all those years it never failed me.  Not even in the Valley.”

Breathing out very slowly, I sheathe the sword as carefully as I drew it and hold it out in my left hand while I take the glass from hers with my right.  She nods, once, in simple confirmation, and takes her old sword from me.

“It’s beautiful.”

When she smiles this time it’s a little more wistful.  “Perhaps.  But only as much as any instrument of death is capable of being.  I remember you father’s blade very well, it never left his side.  Except when he was in their apartments, at least.  Adda insisted.  There was no danger in their home, she would always insist, so it wasn’t needed there.  So he always hung it just inside the door.”  Taking a moment to heft it one-handed, she raises the sheathed weapon and lets it rest back in its place on the wall.

“I remember, he still did that after she was gone.  He was the same with me, he always insisted if I ever brought any weapons up to our quarters I had to leave them at the door.  If I wanted to clean or hone any blades at home I had to do it outside on the balcony.”

This makes Thura grin, and I can’t help doing to same, even if mine feels a little more fragile than I’d like.  Finally she raises the glass in her hand.  “To Edhril.”

“To da.”  I agree, raising my own glass and gently tapping it against hers.  I take a little sip and I’m surprised by how smooth it is, there’s very little burn going down.  Whisky, rich, but a little sweet, something almost honeyed in its flavour.  “Mm.”

As we’ve been talking and toasting, I finally notice, Lady Naru’s been filling more tumblers and passing ‘em out to the others.  The same stuff, looks like.  When he gets his, Art gives it a good close sniff, and I see the slightest flutter of his eyelids as he takes in the scent.  “Oof, what is this?”

“Ah, yes.”  Thura chuckles a little.  “I brought this back from Haalisbenh as well.  The finest dwarven honey whisky, aged for thirty years before they finally cask it.  I brought six casks back with me before I left for my first posting, as a present to my father.  For helping me get into the war academy.”  She catches my eye and cocks a brow.  “Of course, making the elite selection and having your father train me I did on my own.”

Raising the glass again, I acknowledge that she has every right to be proud of herself for how good she’s become.  Thorin knows she ran me ragged down there.  She definitely did da’s training proud.

That said, I didn’t roll over and just give in to her.  In reality, what it ultimately came to was something like a somewhat uneasy draw, she has me beat for speed but I’m definitely stronger, and in the end we decided to call it a day before we just wore each other into the floor.  But I enjoyed myself immensely, even more than I thought I would – it may have started out simply as a chance to cross swords with my hero, but it soon became more of an opportunity to test my mettle against one o’ my da’s finest achievements as a teacher.  To an extent it was almost like trying to fight a ghost, one who fought as hard and fast and agile as he did, even though he was getting old, and it was very interesting for me because I knew all those moves intimately well, because they’re my own, but I still couldn’t beat ‘em.  She’s too good for that.  In the end I just worked my hardest to keep up, and I feel damn proud enough that I managed that.

I saw the way her children were seeing their mother fighting trough new eyes, too.  This time she was clearly up against an equal, someone she didn’t have to hold back with, who could actually genuinely test her, and she fought to her utmost capacity this time.  By the end I saw that Deriel was staring dumbfounded at the pair of us, but his mother in particular, and Pela’s eyes were the widest I’d seen them since we met.

In truth, I found it easier fighting with the training sword her son loaned me than I ever would have with Hefdred.  At first, she insisted that I use my own blade, but I waved that off quickly enough, insisting it would be an unfair danger in a simple practice bout, I didn’t want to run the very real danger of hurting or, potentially, even killing her accidentally if we got too into it.  In the end the blunt practice steel was safer.

That being said, neither of us held back any, and it didn’t feel any different from the real thing.  Training steels are forged exactly the same way as real swords, they’re simply left unfinished so their edges blunt and tips are rounded off, so if you catch your opponent with a hard blow it’ll definitely hurt but there’s little danger of cutting ‘em, especially wearing the proper gear.  They’re designed to approximate the heft, reach and give of a real blade, but without creating any real danger for the person wielding it, or the one facing it.  Even so, I still managed to decapitate a lot of training dummies in the barracks with ‘em when I was growing up, enough that da started making me pay to replace each one I damaged unnecessarily myself, so I stopped doing it after a while.

Altogether, I have a much more mature, healthy respect for this woman than I think I did before, now I’m aware of just how capable she still is.  Mostly, though, I just like her, and she’s made it clear that she likes me too.

For a few moments we just stay as we are, Thura taking another sip of her own as she turns to look over her own collection.  Eventually I start wandering again myself, until I come to a rather battered suit of plate armour mounted on a standing dummy close to the bar.  She quickly sidles up to me again as I’m inspecting it, but doesn’t say anything for a stretch.

Much like her sword, it’s extremely well made but has clearly seen better days, although it’s definitely been looked after well despite the weathering.  That being said, there are a few obvious rends and punctures in the thick, tough steel plate that haven’t been repaired, despite the careful cleaning it’s been dealt, and while there’s nothing immediately fatal here, whoever wore it definitely went through it.

When I turn to her, the way she’s looking at the armour very much reminds me of the way she regarded her sword as she put it away again, and I make the connection.  “This was your armour.  You wore this in the Valley.”

“For three full days, yes.  It was a hard battle, and I’ll admit there are several parts I don’t really even remember.  The end is still mostly a blank to me, I was so completely exhausted and very torn up.  My shield was completely ruined, there wasn’t enough left of it to save.  I slept for two whole days after while they did their best to patch up the worst of it, but when they finally got me back to Tabaphic I was still a week in the hands of the clerics before they finally let me go, and it was another month before I could really walk again.  I was a mess.”

“You saved us all, though.  You fought those bastards back, long enough that the rest of the army could shove ‘em all the way back to the border again.  It was a fucking miracle, what you did.  You made my da proud with those three days.”

Thura’s smile is more than a little mournful as she reaches up with her free hand and touches my cheek, letting her fingers stay there for several moments before withdrawing again.  “Thank you.  I am glad he felt that way.  I did my damnedest to live up to what he wanted me to be … but I still felt …”  She lets a heavy sigh go now, then knocks back the rest of her drink in one big swallow, and it makes her cough a little.  “Oh … gods, Kesla.  I felt ashamed.”

I honestly don’t know how to respond to that.  I open my mouth, but the words just won’t come to me.

“My Unbroken … I led them into a slaughter.  They were the best men and women I’d ever met in my life, as good as your da, as fierce and as fine and as kind and as loyal as anyone I’ve ever known.  They knew that it was only going to end one way, that they were going to die making sure that those fucking Terrors never made it further south than we’d let them while the very last of us still drew breath, and I held the front for as long as I could through the fight.  I saw friends I’d bled with countless times before cut down on either side of me and I couldn’t do anything because if I stopped for a moment to try and help them, the line would have broken and that would have been it.  They had to pull me off the vanguard three times and practically force me to sleep for a few hours after a quick meal so I didn’t just drop from exhaustion, and each time I let them I knew my friends were dying up there without me.”

After a deep breath, she stalks back to the bar and refills her glass.  When she turns back to me now she just looks haunted.  “The Hellcat of Kumehn Valley … I didn’t deserve to be lauded for that.  I didn’t deserve all the commendations, the promotions, the celebrations in the capitol.  I don’t deserve to be remembered for those three days.  I wasn’t a hero.  The heroes were the poor bastards that are buried up there because I lived.”

For a long moment I just look at her, feeling shocked and shook and all kinds of guilty now about what I said, or tried to say and failed so badly.  Finally I knock back the rest of my own drink too and now I feel the burn as I swallow, but I forge ahead all the same, walking up to her as her eyes widen and she holds a faltering hand up to try and ward me off.  I set the glass down on the bar and fold her into a hug and she just melts in my arms.

She doesn’t cry, and I guess I’m kinda grateful for it, I think I might’ve started too myself.  “I get it.”  I finally mutter, keeping my voice as low as I can so it’s just for the two of us.  “Some battles are too ugly to feel good about afterwards.  Even the ones that need to be fought.”

She starts to laugh a little at that, and when she pushes me away I let her.  She looks up at me, and while her eyes are wet her smile is mostly just rueful.  “Your da taught you more than just combat, clearly.”

“He wanted me to be ready for anything that this kind o’ life would throw at me.  I guess that includes the shitty hands fate deals you sometimes.”

Nodding, Thura takes a step past me and grabs my empty glass, then steps back to retrieve the decanter again so she can refill my glass too.  Then someone knocks at the door and she straightens up.  “Ah.  Yes.  Finally.”  She passes me the tumbler and stalks back across the room again, making a beeline through the clutter for the door.

The others are watching her progress with curiosity, although I detect a note of disquiet in Dumoli now, as if he’s expecting an unpleasant surprise to be waiting on the other side when that door opens.  Lady Naru, on the other hand, is already on her feet, but she still looks perfectly calm, as if she’s been expecting this.  Maybe she has.

“Just in time, as it turns out.”  Thura muses after she opens the door, stepping back immediately as what I can only describe as a force of nature stalks into the room.

I’ve never actually met a fat dragonhalf before, but this one could put in a bid for the role.  He’s shorter than most I’ve come across, if you count his horns he’s barely as tall as I am, but he doesn’t seem small because he’s so broad, across the shoulders but also his waistline, although in his case I suspect that might be more due to muscle.  Certainly he’s clearly got an expansive personality to match his girth, the way his booming voice reverberates around the room as he announces himself.  “I always arrive precisely when intended as you know, my dear!  If I promise to attend an appointment I can be relied upon to make good on my commitments!”

This one’s not just an unusual member of his race in terms of his proportions, either.  I’ve met plenty of red dragonhalves, and greens, and even a few blues and blacks in my time, but this is the first with brass dragon-blood I’ve ever encountered.  His tan leathern scales have a coolly lustrous gleam which is extremely striking, and given his clear personality I suspect he buffs them up at every opportunity to appear even more impressive.  His snout is fairly short, but his face is broad like the rest of him, giving him an appearance of somewhat reptilian jolliness that’s definitely enhanced by an easy smile and deep crow’s feet around his glowing blue eyes.  His horns are gleaming ebony and there are six of ‘em, all substantial, twirling affairs that add to his general majesty, while his spiky tail seems to constantly wag in a lazy back-and-forth manner even after he comes to a stop in the middle of the room.

He's dressed in a very similar manner to most of the other nobles I’ve encountered in my time, but his long, flowing robes are some of the finest I’ve ever seen, rick silks and brocaded velvets with subtle trims of spider silk-fine lace picked out in shades of deep red and gold.  Before he stopped, I caught sight of his boots, which are rich, well-made chocolate brown leather buffed to an even higher sheen than his scales, and his clawed fingers are substantially adorned with thick rings heavily bedecked with gems.  I see Art sitting up already as he catches sight of those, and I try not to roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, that’s all very well.”  Thura sighs, clearly nonplussed now.  “But I’m sure Lady Naru already made it clear that this was to be a secret meeting as well.  Please tell me you at least took the necessary precautions before you came.”

Frowning, which seems like a strangely alien expression on his face, actually, the dragonhalf gives her a look, flicking his fingers at her in something like a shooing gesture.  “Oh for the love of … I know, Thura, I’m not an idiot.  Your lovely contact already filled me in on the problem at hand, so I left the arrangements to her.”

“So where is the young Mistress then?”  Thura matches his look with her own, but this one’s a good deal more forceful.  “I know you think the world revolves around you, but I was hoping to get her advice as well in this matter.”

“Now children, please.”  Lady Naru places herself between them both now, still seeming perfectly calm and serene.  “This is hardly the time –”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  Another new arrival closes the door behind her as soon as she’s entered the room, looking very sheepish, and the moment she does her Tulen springs to her feet.  “I was coming, I promise, but there was a very inquisitive little girl in the hallway who insisted on asking me if I was a wizard as well.  I was somewhat thrown by the last part.”

This makes Thura giggle, covering her mouth too late to stifle it as she rolls her eyes.  “Oh Mara … my apologies, my daughter can be quite a handful.”

“Sessa,”  Tulen breathes barely a beat after, looking a little flustered now.  “It’s … um … hello, I’m … I’m sorry, I thought –”

“Tulen!”  The newcomer’s eyes go wide, and her expression is complicated, although there’s as much trepidation in it as surprise.  “You’re … but I thought Gael was …”  She turns and looks at Lady Naru now, as if searching for help.

“She’s busy, something else came up and she’s dealing with it.”  Lady Naru sighs, stepping her way now.  “My apologies, things have become quite fluid, I couldn’t relay all the relevant details at once.”

As this somewhat thin explanation sinks in, this new wizard starts to frown, taking a deep breath as, I imagine, she starts to piece things together for herself.  I’ll admit, it’s a strange expression on this particular face, but then I’ve never actually met a half-orc mage before.

She’s certainly very striking, tall and broad across her shoulders, particularly chubby for a half-orc but her natural strength still shows through, and she seems comfortable enough in her white and silver robes of office.  She’s already thrown back her hood, and she wears her long hair down, thick, silken black curls tumbling heavily over her shoulders and framing her round, cherubic face.  As she takes in the rest of us, she fumbles her staff somewhat as she passes it from one hand to the other, and has to scramble a little to keep from dropping it.  It’s a simple wooden affair, somewhat like Gael’s old one before it was broken, but made from a much paler wood, tall and thin and topped with a simple capped bowl with its crystal already mounted inside.

“Oh … oh, of course, that’s … yes.  I’m sorry, that makes perfect sense.”  She licks her soft, full lips, taking another deep breath, and turns to Tulen again, and this time she seems to be getting hold of herself again.  “You’re … I mean, you’re  here.  I thought … I mean, you don’t do field work.  Why … what are you … um …”

Tulen’s growing very dark across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, I notice, and while it’s becoming clear to me now that this newcomer is a rather anxious individual most of the time, our dragonhalf friend doesn’t seem to be handling this surprise meeting much better.  “Well … I mean, Gael needed help.  It’s their da …”

“I heard, yes.”  Letting her breath go in a long puff, the half-orc lowers her eyes and reaches up to brush her hair aside from her face in clear discomfort, and I can see a deep blush spreading across her face too.  “Um …  it’s … it is good to see you.”

“And you.”  Tulen manages a wan smile, having trouble with eye-contact herself now.  “I mean … yeah, I’ve missed you.”

The girl looks up at this, and when their eyes lock again it’s a genuinely electric moment, and suddenly all the awkwardness starts to make sense to me.  Then Tulen just steps forward and folds her into a hug and the newcomer’s only stiff for a moment longer before she just melts and returns it.

For a little while the room is silent, and there are a variety of expressions on display amongst the group at large, although Thura’s simply wearing that same mischievous smile I found so striking before.  Then the dragonhalf noble clears his throat somewhat louder than strictly necessary and they both spring apart as if they’ve just been caught out doing something far more inappropriate.

“Oh … I am … so sorry, my Lord.”  The half-orc almost squeaks the words as free hand flies up to cover her mouth.  “I didn’t mean –”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine.”  The grin that the noble offers up is a good deal sharper than previous, clearly intended to convey deeper meaning now.  “It’s not like our business is urgent or anything.”

“Forgive us, my Lord.”  Tulen huffs and puffs some as she tries to cover, but her blush has deepened so much her embarrassment’s still writ large across her.  “It’s just we haven’t seen each other for … since Winterheart.  Um …”

“It’s cool, Tu.”  I step up to her side now, resisting the urge to just wrap my arm round her shoulders and give her a companionable squeeze to comfort her, instead looking the other young wizard over.  In truth, I reckon I worked out who she is now, I’ve heard enough about the friends Gael made during their Academy years now to have a good idea.  “You’d be Sessa, right?”

The half-orc blinks, surprised, and slowly lowers her hand from her face again.  Her own blush is still deep too, but curiosity is taking over from her deep discomfort now.  “Um … I am ... oh, yes.  Yes, I am.  Sorry …”  She flaps her hand for a moment, unsure what to do with herself I think, then finally remembers and gives what I’ve come to recognise as the Order’s signature salute, before frowning and extending her right hand after all.  “Very sorry.  Um … yes, I am.  Sessa Ruthik, of the Silver Order.  Junior Advisor to the Provisional Government in Untermer.”

Taking her hand, I give it a friendly squeeze and firm pump.  “Kesla Shoon.  Of nothing in particular, aside from the Creeping Bam.”

Sessa looks me over again, a little more critically now, and starts to smile.  “Oh … oh yes, of course.  Yes, I do know who you are, yes.  Gael’s written about you, all of you.  She speaks particularly highly of you.”  When she finally lets go of my hand her smile’s grown very warm, and she’s straightened up to her full height, her shoulders losing any signs of a slouch now, and I can see how much more confident she can be when she’s not taken so completely by surprise.

“That’s lovely, of course, but –”  The dragonhalf noble’s still smiling, and he seems jolly enough now that the situation’s been defused, although I think he’s still trying to make a point all the same.

Certainly it occurs to Sessa.  “Oh!  Yes!  Sorry … um … yes, sorry.  Mistress Shoon, this is Lord Shembad Wralin of House Orlaprax.  Formerly of the Royal Council.”  She starts to squirm a little now, folding her hands behind her back as she lowers her eyes.  “Um … because … you know … of … reasons …”

“The bloody Terrors gave me the boot after they invaded.”  he growls as he shakes my hand, but there’s still a subtle smile on his face, albeit a rueful one.  “Couldn’t let a decorated general with a reputation for kicking their pale arses at every engagement serve in their precious Provisional sham.”  He turns to Sessa.  “No offence meant, my dear.”

“Oh, no.  None taken, my Lord.”  She bows formally.  “After all, it’s only an assignment.  And I can do actual good where I am, of course.  Much like Lady Naru.”  She shrugs, growing sheepish again.  “Um … well, I try at least …”

“You do good, my dear.”  Lady Naru wafts up to her side in almost perfect silence.  “Our own dealings between the Court and the Provisionals have always ended most amicably, both here and in Tabaphic.”

“Well, yes, but … I mean, I only advise.  None of them have to listen to me.  And often enough they don’t.”  She sighs.  “Mostly I just do what the Order asks me to do, anyway.”

“Which is the point.”  Lady Naru smiles at her now.  “That’s why you’re so good at your job.  You do what you’re told, and you don’t make any waves if you don’t have to.  So they accept you as one of their own.  Meanwhile you pay attention.  Which is invaluable for the real work.”

“Such as what we have here.”  Lord Wralin grins, and as expected it’s full of sharp teeth.  “Sticking it to the bastards who think they can get away with anything they like now.  Such as that unpleasant bloodless little monster Hontiresk.”

“Who?”  I don’t know that name.

“Refik Hontiresk.”  Lord Wralin sucks in his lips, clearly offended by the very thought of whoever it is he’s talking about.  It makes him look like he’s sucking on the sourest lemon in the world.  “One of the senior Administrators in the Authority here in Untermer.  There are a few particularly slippery bastards we’ve had our eye on for a while now, but he’s the top of the list.  He rose through the ranks with impressive speed when his father took a fatal tumble down a particularly tall staircase just after the Invasion, now he controls all his family’s interests and a good deal more.”

“Very few people who’ve actually met that loathsome little reptile actually believe his father’s death was an accident, either.  Never mind that it was far too conveniently timed.”  Thura returns to the group now carefully holding two more tumblers underhand so she can hold onto her own as well, offering both up to the new arrivals.  “Of course no-one’s ever come out and said as much.  He has a habit of making most people who disagree with him disappear.”

“Most people?”  I venture, already suspicious about the answer.

Taking both glasses, Wralin retains one while passing the other to Sessa, who just frowns down at the drink like she’s deeply unaccustomed.  “Myself, Lady Vezrim, Madame Daste and a few of his other detractors are a little too important to just … accident away.”

“You reckon this is who we’re up against?”  I turn to Thura now.  “The money behind Jammund and Vandryss?”

“Hontiresk is in charge of the docks.  Jammund’s one of his pets, and from what we’ve been able to surmise, a particularly favoured one.”  She folds her arms, letting her glass dangle from her hand as she considers.  “This … Vandryss person you’ve described to us isn’t at all familiar, but we’ve had some particular trouble keeping as close an eye on the docks lately as we’d like.  Half the people we’ve tried to send in over the past six months or so in particular haven’t come back out again.”

“But I thought you were both just private citizens now.”  Tulen ventures, looking a little confused now.  “Sessa said you’d retired, my Lord.  And you said as much yourself, my Lady.”

“Well, yes.”  Wralin regards her for a moment, slowly cocking a brow as he starts to smile again, and I get the feeling he’s getting a good measure of her now.  Then he steps forward and takes her hand, which makes her go very stiff, taking her very much by surprise, so when he starts to lead her back through the jumble of furniture to one of the empty spots on a couch she goes without objection.  “Of course, my dear.  On the surface that’s very much the case.  But that never sat well with me, any more than it did with our beloved Hellcat.  So we both did what we could when we could, and after that fell through we simply worked with whatever was left available to us.”

As Tulen settles where he’s placed her, Sessa quickly takes up the seat beside her, and the rest of us start to gravitate into the centre of the room too.   There’s an interesting moment when Lord Wralin turns and freezes on the spot, looking towards the corner of the room where Driver 8’s stayed since he came in.  Thankfully this office is on the ground floor so he didn’t have to navigate the stirs, but the corridor outside was barely wide enough for him to enter without turning, and Big Man found the doorway itself quite the task.  He offered to stay outside and just listen in as well as he could through the closed door, but Thura insisted he join us properly, so he squeezed through the best he could without wrecking the place and then planted himself on the spot once he was inside.  Very mindful indeed this place is clearly filled with beloved mementos from the Lady’s glorious past that he really doesn’t want to damage.

“Goodness me!”  Lord Wralin exclaims before taking a big swallow of his whisky.  “Hello there.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Wralin.”  the golem rumbles  “I am Driver 8, known to my friends as Big Man.”

Grinning wide, the dragonhalf tips a particularly deep formal bow.  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, my good friend.  It has been a very long time since I’ve encountered an actual honest to gods functional golem.”

“I should very much like to hear about your previous experiences, my Lord.”  Big Man can’t smile, of course, but the way he straightens up a little bit tells me he’s beaming with pride all the same.

Chuckling warmly, Lord Wralin nods his assent.  “I’d like that as well, after our business is concluded.”  He takes another, more modest sip of his drink now as he turns back to the rest of us.  “He’s incredible!  I really am looking forward to that conversation.”

“Yeah, he’s really something.”  Nodding myself, I move to Art’s side as he looks over at Tulen, who I notice has already laced her own hand into Sessa’s as they lean into each other on the couch, sharing an amiable smile now.  Reaching down, I get hold of Art’s shoulder and drag him to his feet before he can start to protest.  “My Lord?”

“Hmm?”  For a moment Lord Wralin just looks at me curiously, then he catches my nod towards the now vacated chair and smiles again.  “Oh, yes.  Much obliged, my dear.”

Letting go of Art, I studiously ignore him as he starts glaring daggers at me and drop into the remaining armchair, while Lady Naru’s already taken up the empty space on the other couch beside Dumoli.  Seeing there’s nowhere left for him to sit, Art scowls at me and stalks over, finally perching on the arm of my chair instead of sitting on the floor.

“That was uncalled for.”  He growls, low so it’s just for me as he leans in.

“Really?  I thought it was very much called for.”  I give him an innocent smile that I’m sure don’t convince him at all.  “You gotta learn to defer to your betters.”

Giving me a last hot glare, Art lets out a heavy sigh and sits up again, finally taking a swallow of his drink as he starts to observe Tulen and Sessa again.  They both look very comfortable together, my previous evaluation of their relationship seeming to hold up now.

“Face it, Art.”  I whisper up at him  “You never had a chance there.”

“What?”  He snaps it a little louder than intended, I think, so after casting about for a moment he leans in again to whisper close in my ear.  “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I mean, it’s very clear to me now you’re just not her type.”  I nod over at the two young wizards as they start to whisper to each other, and a moment both dissolve into a fit of giggles.  Tulen gives Sessa’s hand a little squeeze and the half-orc just rests her head on her friend’s shoulder.

Following my gaze, Art’s frown deepens further, then he glares down at me again.  “That wasn’t what I –”

“So, you were with the Legion then, my Lord?”  I just run roughshod right over him as I raise my voice again, sitting forward as I turn to Lord Wralin.  I can feel the furious weight of Art’s stare but I’ve long since grown immune.

Pausing just after taking a sip, the dragonhalf regards me for a long moment with a somewhat curious look on his face, looking me over as close as I’m doing to him now.  Finally he cocks a brow as he swallows, and doesn’t need to so much as clear his throat , but then I’m not surprised.  “Not so directly involved as yourself, I suspect.”

I have to smile at that, although it’s a cautious one.  “Interesting you could tell.”

“Nonsense, I heard your name several times while the Resistance was still alive.  You were one of our best fighters, you did your father proud every day.  I’ll admit I’ve found this meeting a refreshing enough revelation simply learning you’re still alive after all.  After Tabaphic –”

“Not for lack o’ the bastards trying.  Hardly any of us made it out, and that was it.  I was stuck hiding in Hocknar for six months, so I had to just disappear.  I guess the others felt the same.”  I roll the tumbler between my fingers as I look down into the gently sloshing surface of the finger of whisky left in it.  “Honestly, there’s times I wish we’d just kept fighting after all.”

”It wouldn’t have helped, we would have simply lost what little resources we had left.  You’re all of you too valuable for that.”  Thura’s remained standing while the rest of us sat, slowly stalking round the room like she’s feeling restless, which might not be far from the truth.  “We’ve looked into the possibility over the years since, but …”

Looking at her for a long, loaded moment, Lord Wralin growls subtly under his breath.  “The truth is, we think we might have been compromised in the end.  In Tabaphic, it was …  ugly.  The Terrors, they fell on you all too quickly , and far too well coordinated.  As if they knew exactly who and where to hit all at once to cripple the Legion in one fell swoop.”

“You mean …”  I grip the tumbler a little tighter than I’d like for a moment before I remember myself, but thankfully the crystal’s well cut, it doesn’t crack under the pressure.  “You think it was someone on the inside?  A traitor?”

“Quite likely, yes.”  Wralin looks to Thura again, and his frown deepens.  “Something about how it went down, it felt a little too much like the fall, the start of the invasion itself.  The way those bastards were suddenly in our midst like that without us knowing, just a day after they started their push in the North … it was as if someone opened the doors for them to step right in.  And then again, in Tabaphic, when the Legion’s core leadership were slaughtered in a single night, and the rest of you were left to scatter like rats under torchlight …”  He grimaces, hissing angrily now, and for a moment there’s a subtle, sulphurous smell in the air, while a little wisp of something vaporous wafts from between his teeth, only for him to suck it back in almost immediately, as if he remembers himself.  His frown deepens to something close to thunderous now.  “”We don’t know who it was.  That’s the problem.”

“That’s why none of us have tried to start things up, even though Shem and a few of the others have shown themselves to be above reproach.”  Thura turns to regard Lady Naru for a long moment, and the sorcerer takes a thoughtful sip from her glass before looking my way.  Her own expression is complicated.

“You too?”  I ask her after moment.

“Never in any official capacity.  It can be very dangerous, if someone like me definitively chooses a side, but … well, it was an ugly business, the way they just … took over like they did.  It never sat well with me.  So I always tried to help out however I could.”

“Thank you.”  It feels so inadequate, just saying that, but … well, given how standoffish I’ve been with her so far, I just want to do more than that, but I can’t think how.

“There’s no need for it.  It was the right thing to do.”

That makes me blink.  There’s something about that which reminds me so much of Krakka, the way he was during the Resistance, when I first came to know him.  Studiously trying to keep out of the conflict itself, mostly because of the tenets of his faith and his devotion to his goddess, so in the end he just helped anyone who needed it, whether they were Legion or Terrors.  But even so, he still had his own preference about who needed the help more, because he was who he was, and he couldn’t just stand by.

I’m really starting to like her, I think.

“So … there are still more of you out there, then?”  Dumoli ventures after a few moments of thoughtful silence.  “Former Legion, or at least their patrons?”

“Did you serve, Master Bitterbrow?”  Thura wonders, regarding him a little more critically than she did when they were first introduced.  “I couldn’t place your name before …”

“Not in the Legion, no.  I was a Rundao regular, once upon a time, but I mustered out before the Occupation even started.  I was already in the merc game, so I suppose I had business on my mind instead.  Mostly we never bothered to involve ourselves.”  He shrugs.  “I mean, we know plenty of former members, but that‘s the way the game works these days.”

Nodding, Thura unfolds her arms before taking another big pull from her tumbler, effectively draining it now.  She frowns into it for a moment, then stalks back to the bar.

“There are others left, yes.”  Lord Wralin growls  “Some here, some elsewhere.  Nowhere near as many in Tabaphic as there once were, unfortunately.  The Second Purge was a little too thorough, even more so than the First.  Whoever the bastard was who turns on us, they did their job too well there in particular.”

“So it was one o’ them then.”  Art ventures, then blinks when I look up at him with particularly sharp interest.  “Right?  I mean … stands to reason, if it hit hardest there, then …”

“That’s the pervading theory, yes.”  Thura’s pouring herself another now.  “Unfortunately, since we can’t be certain … well, we’re stuck because of it.  We don’t know who to trust, so all we can do now is watch.”

“Which is what you say I’m doing.”  Sessa muses, looking a little perturbed while Tulen watches her sidelong with wary curiosity.  “You’re doing the same.”

“A few of us, yes.”  Lord Wralin’s still frowning as he regards her.  “We pass on what we can, if there’s reason, but … our hands are very much tied now, I’m afraid.”

“Which is why Madame Daste sent us to you.”  I have to smile, and it feels as bitter as it must look.  “For what it’s worth.”

“Well, your business is as complicated as ours, it would seem.”  Thura returns to the group now, her arms folded across her chest again with her glass clutched under her chin, and her expression is quizzical now.  “Right now, it seems our stars have aligned.  Though I’d have been mindful to help you anyway.”

“As am I.”  Lord Wralin chuckles.

Nodding, I look down into the glass for a moment longer, than take another big swallow to finish my drink.  I let it settle in my stomach before placing the glass on the floor by the leg of my chair.  “So, this Hontiresk fellow …”

“As we said, there’s no way to be sure.”  Thura sighs  “But he’s definitely a safe bet.  If nothing else he’d been smart to check off the list if he isn’t, just to be sure.”

Lord Wralin finishes his own drink now, swilling it for a moment before swallowing, and again it doesn’t seem to have any noticeable effect on him.  Dragonhalves, really.  “Personally, I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t your man.  This is very much his wheelhouse, and learning that there might be someone worse pulling his strings isn’t that much of a stretch.”  He holds the empty glass up now, turning it slowly as he looks into the crystal, rainbow colours subtly shifting in the candlelight.  “Besides, he has … unpleasant tastes, I’m led to understand.”

“Like trafficking in people?”  Tulen looks somewhat haunted when she asks that.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”  The dragonhalf finally sets his glass down on the arm of his chair and laces his long, taloned fingers together as he settles back the rest of the way into the soft, creaking leather, growing thoughtful now.  “You mentioned … I’m not sure, Mistress Ruthik’s report was not so very detailed as I would have liked.  Something about a questionable mage.”

“Yeah, there’s one o’ them too.”  Art sighs before taking a big gulp of his own whisky.  “A warlock, is the consensus.  I dunno, ain’t really my expertise, but …”

The look that passes between Thura and Lord Wralin is very dark, the dragonhalf sitting up again so he can lean forward and regard me for a long moment.  “You think something eldritch might be going on here?”

“It’s starting to look that way, yeah.”  I shrug.  “That bitch Vandryss is … worrying.  She doesn’t look like anything I ever dealt with before, and our ranger … Yeslee’s hunted a whole lot of dark shit in her time, I been able to surmise, but she don’t recognise her kind any more’n I do.  And when we fought …”  I grimace, unable to keep myself from shuddering.

“What happened?”  Thura’s watching me close, and she almost looks nervous now.

“I ran Hefdred right through her.  Right up to the hilt.  Through her fucking heart.  And she just shrugged it off.”

“Bloody hell.”  Sessa’s eyes are real big now, while her voice was real small.

If I thought Thura looked nervous before she looks scared now, and it really don’t look right on her face.  Clearly fear ain’t something she shows much at all, but right now she can’t help it.  “I … I’ve never heard of anything like that either.  And I’ve fought some …”  She looks to Lord Wralin.  “Does that remind you of anything?”

“Was she …”  He frowns deep, but I can sense an undercurrent to his consternation now.  Something like fear, much as with Thura, but more well-disguised.  “Do you suppose she was undead?”

I shake my head.  “No.  I don’t reckon so.  I was face to face with her, an’ I seen plenty undead things in my life … she was definitely alive.  Nasty, and wrong, but alive.”

“That’s … worrying.”  Lord Wralin turns to regard Lady Naru now, and I notice Thura’s doing the same, but the sorcerer simply shakes her head.  I notice she’s become quite solemn now, but ain’t shook like the others now.  Then again we did go over this with her once already.

Everyone just ponders for a while, and I look down at my hands, steady, finding no tremors in them despite the turn of our conversation.  Eventually I look up to find Tulen’s got her head bowed again, eyes closed, and I’m already sat as far forward as I can get, so I just get to my feet instead.  I’ve taken a step forward almost before I realise it.

Art starts to ask what’s up, but then he must notice too, so he just falls silent.  Other eyes are turning her way now, and while we wait for her to come out of her induced trance again I feel further tension starting to rise in me.  My hands are tightening into fists and I didn’t even ask them to.  I want to ask her what’s up but I know it’d be useless until she breaks contact.

It goes on for another short stretch, and I know I ain’t the only one getting impatient.  Dumoli’s shuffled forward in his seat now, ready to jump off at the first opportunity, and Sessa’s leaning close to her friend now, looking a little fretful.  I suspect her own growing concern’s more due to her reading the reaction in the group, though, since she’s currently less well-informed of the specifics of what the other group is involved with.

I sense someone moving close to me now, and I have a moment where I start to tense up, I can’t help it, I’m just too wired at the moment, but then I see through the corner of my eye it’s just Thura, and I start to relax again, much as I can at least.  For a moment she just looks back at me, and when I turn her way she manages a smile, although it looks a little hesitant.  “Look at it this way, it might be good news.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, I find it real hard to summon a smile o’ my own.  “The way our luck’s been going lately … I dunno.”

Tulen breathes out, long and low, and finally raises her chin again, slowly opening her eyes.  For a moment she just takes in all the expectant faces, her gaze lingering on me and Thura as we can’t help both stepping right up to look down at her, and she visibly swallows, seeming nervous now.  But then she takes a deep breath, sitting up as she extricates her hand from Sessa’s and takes a moment to smooth down her clothes as she clears her throat.  Not wanting to rush, clearly.  It must be big news.

“They’re all right.  It worked … the raid, I mean.  They found Tog, and the others are all right.  Darwyn had a close call, but Shay pulled her through fine.”  She ponders for a moment, then look right up at me.  “They found something else, though.  Some-one else.  And took him alive.”

That has me frowning, but I feel an electric kind of anticipation stirring in me now all the same.  Maybe it’s a break.  Gods know we need one.  “Who?”

“Gael says it’s Vik.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...