#maybe impulse gem and cub for the rest of the gang

[redwinterroses]

Decked Out but it's a Scooby-Doo au and when they finally track down the Dungeon Master they rip off the hood with glowing eyes and it's just Wet Cat Tango.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 6- Of Guilds and Gems

Master Post

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Rejected and told to disband, the hermits can only lament their losses and try to figure out where to go from here. Luckily, a message gives them all they need to know.

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The hermits sit at the canal’s wall, feet dangling over the slow moving water. Watching letters sail by, flags flutter in the wind, and waterfalls fill the ever-moving marsh. Most of the hermits can’t manage to touch their ice cream, their stomach sick just thinking about what happened. For once, Grian’s foolproof pick-me-up isn’t working. 

But ice cream always works. It’s how he got to know Mumbo, after saving him from a violent robbery. He remembers Mumbo’s alarmed expression as he simply wiped away the blood and asked what his favorite flavor was. When Etho failed his S-Class trials, it was ice cream that brought back a smile on the shadow ninja’s face. Grian was sure ice cream would ease the painful rejection they just received. 

The frozen treats are all melted by the time someone speaks up. Everyone expected to hear Xisuma, wise counseling from their substitute guildmaster, or an angry tirade from Doc. But it’s Zedaph who’s voice rises up. “I didn’t like his office. It had...a bad feeling in there. The feeling of death.” 

“Probably because of all his taxidermy animals, bro.” Iskall sighs, flopping onto his back and staring at the sky. Watching the white clouds move across the blue sky with one crystal eye. “Trust me, that was weird for everyone.” 

“No, beyond that. It wasn’t just the heads. It felt like everything in there was… was screaming. I don’t know, my shepherd magic just told me that all those souls were in agony or something.” Zedaph bites his lip. His magic was always so hard to describe. It was more than just a feeling. It was nauseating, overwhelming. 

“Maybe it was just the sound of all our souls being betrayed at once.” Jevin grumbles, playing with a ball of slime in his hand, movement lackluster and slow. 

“He had our crest.” Impulse’s voice is gruff, husky and low. Twenty something heads turn to face the member of team ZIT, but he doesn’t look up from the water. His fists clench, leather of his fingerless gloves rippling. “He had the crest of a murdered guild hung up on his wall like some trophy.” 

“Maybe it was in memory?” Stress whispers. “Or he had a friend who died in the massacre? As rude as that whole burning contract thing was, I don’t think he’s anything more than a jackass.” A ripple of agreement washes across the other hermits. Tango looks at his friends, and does his best to console them. They’re all thinking about their old guild, the only three survivors left to remember them. The only legal guild that wanted a shepherd mage and his talking animal abilities, a wizard that can summon hell magic and has fire for hair, and a sorcerer who only deals with destruction. 

Keralis’s eyes follow two wizards, walking by in dark grey robes, blue tassled belts denoting their position within a legal guild. Uniforms of notoriety, of power and presence. Respect, easily won as they just walk down the streets of Milliara.  “Maybe we can ask one of the Council guilds to help. Surely if they hear what we saw, they will want to help the people of Lairyon, no?” 

“Those pompous bastards?” Iskall snorts, leaning back to rest on his elbows. “They only care about their seat on the council and being the richest guild in Lairyon. If Gildara doesn’t pay up, they won’t do a damned thing.” The Council seats are filled by the six strongest guilds, and the elected magistrate. Unlike Dolios, they aren’t chosen. The guildmasters take up the seat, and they are picked solely based on their guild’s bylaws. Many are nobles, gaining even more power in law as well as class. The guilds are elite, licensed and powerful enough to sway not just the populace but the government as well.

Keralis whimpers, watching the two guildmembers walk by. They must be strong, well trained to be a member of a Council guild. And all that is being wasted, put on display by their guilds and waltzing around Milliara. When the entire nation needs them. 

“What about King Sor?” Stress breathes. “He has some say in the ruling of Lairyon. These are his people.”

“No one has heard anything from the king in years. Apart from his festival appearances and other civil duties, he just passes any law that appears on his throne.” Mumbo remembers the last time he saw King Sor. Just a few days before he attempted the exam for the Stoneforge guild- the last guild that would even think to take him. It was a joyous day of celebration, a festival of art and creativity- something he remembers King Sor used to love when he was but a prince. 

But when the king appeared at his promenade, there was a hint of fear in his eyes the entire time he spoke. As soon as he was done, he scrambled back to his royal advisor and let Magistrate Dolios return to his part of the speeches. There was no one in the government they could ask, no one they could think to turn to.

Etho nudges Xisuma on the shoulder. “There’s one person we could ask. What about your-” 

“No, absolutely not.” Xisuma stands, brushing off the dirt from his robes. “Come on gang, let’s get back to our home.” He glances over his shoulder, the hermits following his gaze to an arcane guard, just a few meters away and easily visible as the crowd breaks around him, like water splitting at a boulder in the stream.. “We need to get to work packing up.” 

Mumbo’s lip trembles. No, this can’t be happening. He finally has a guild, a place he feels he belongs. His magic may be weak, uncontrollable at best, but they don’t care. They just like having him around. Years of being denied entry into guild after guild, abandoned by his family as a failure, and turning to an illegal guild. And finding more than he ever had in the gilded halls of noble high life. All gone, taken from him again. But then he notices Xisuma wink from within the mask, as well as Grian’s sly grin on his face, and he realizes his mistake. 

“Whoa, what the hell?” A cacophony ripples down the street, people ducking out of the way and chagrining at the flying flame that banks and bows under the many flags and pennants. “Who is stupid enough to use a phoenix for a mail carrier?”

Grian gasps, bouncing into the sky with his wings unfolding. “Phoebe!” 

“Still needs a better name.” Doc grumbles, watching as the firebird lands on Grian’s arm. Feathers like tongues of flame ruffle, brushing up against Grian as she nuzzles against the wizard. His cheeks turn pink, but don’t burn. Her chirps are the sound of wood breaking and embers sizzling, but each hermit welcomes the sight of their unusual mail carrier. 

“I bet it’s TFC. He’s probably asking how things went.” Grian grimaces, letting Xisuma open the scroll strapped in an enchanted carrier. 

“Nope, actually. Wels is back,” A loud cheer follows the announcement. He’d been gone for months, on a solo mission in Alphasgard. The guild was starting to worry when he wasn’t responding to their correspondences. X peers at the letter, ignoring Grian as he digs into Xisuma’s backpack. Searching for charcoal to treat Phoebe. “He’s writing to… he wants us to come home as soon as possible.” 

Xisuma sighs, feeling the pressure of the entire guild peeking over his shoulder and clambering over him to see what the letter says. Impatient buggers, the lot of them. He tosses the paper for them all to see. Elegant handwriting, sharp as a blade and shiny as armor, pens out the message to them all- 

To my fellow hermits, 

Please come home IMMEDIATELY. TFC is scaring me- he’s not acting right. He spends all day pestering with one tiny crystal, he’s been acting irritated and irrational. Just yesterday he yelled at me for bringing him baklava. He loves my baklava! 

What is going on? Is there something I missed? 

                     -Wels, Paladin Wizard, sworn Knight of Lairyon

“Does he always have to sign it like it’s an official document?” Cub shrugs. 

“What does he mean, TFC isn’t acting right?” Mumbo bites his lip, brows knitting together. TFC never yells at anyone, he’s more of a father to Mumbo than his own ever was. 

“We missed Wels��s baklava!” Zedaph whines. The day just keeps getting worse and worse. 

“If it’s something that has Wels so worried, we should get back as soon as possible. Either way, there’s nothing for us here.” Xisuma rolls up the parchment, and the entire guild continues with a heightened pace to the western gate- the gate of determination. Set on getting back to the sea as fast as possible.