#new dawn squad ~ Avalanche

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

// Hi, don’t mind me, just tag dumping.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Before Dawn ~Pt4~

I was so so so so so insecure to post this chapter so I only hope you enjoy first smooches with Levs. My requests are always open so if you're in the mood you can always drop by and request anything.

Find the other chapters here

Warnings: mentions of blood and a tad if nudity

As always @hidehaskak

Snow veil

"I'm so cold."

The raging blizzard blows mercilessly onto you and Levi. As tremendously large snowflakes fly to every direction as the wind makes an unbearable howling sound you clutch your one hand closer to Levi's winter cloak. Your lower jaw is radically colliding with your top one as you wrap your other arm around you in hopes of warming up. You can feel Levi tensing up every time a new wave of ice cold snowflakes land on him at the freezing weather and even though he's shaking, much like you, he speaks no words back to you.

He probably feels guilty for being the one to accidentally force your duo into this. After last year's fiasco involving Levi's, Farlan's and Isabel's inclusion to the military without having received proper training Mike had taken upon himself to investigate on any lack of training between both new recrewts as well as older veteran corps members. As a new squad leader and section commander he didn't want to take any chances against the survival of his soldier and you admired that deeply. His compassion and determination were always things that made you trust him blindly whenever Erwin assigned him in command of your old squad.

Therefore the plan was simple; you'd take the route assigned to you in small groups of four and you would head to a training corps base according to map. It should only take three hours to get there by horse and then you were free to relax, always following strict curfews.

But as beneficial as Mike had thought winter training would be he would have never guessed the raging blizzard or the avalanche that separated you and Levi from your groups.

It's had taken an hour for him to try and locate anyone of his team, his flares weren't working due to the hawling wind scattering the smoke around, when he finds you. He watches in horror as you try to cover your face with your arms to protect yourself from the cold, ignoring the necessity of looking at your surroundings and most particularly, ignoring the vast cliff that lays only a few teeny centimeters away from your horse's feet.

Speeding up to catch up to you, Levi hit the sides of his mare in a tender manner with his feet. The horse speeds smoothly for only a few meters, as if there isn't any snow around to be bother by. Levi takes it upon himself to treat his horse to some fresh apples and carrots he has in his bag once this was all over. His mare deserves a little rest and some extra treats for all the excellence and delicacy she carried.

"Hunny no!"

He had only avert his eyes for a fragment of a second when your horse tripped over the edge of the cliff urging you to let out an eardrum piercing screech that made the ravenette run to your direction. With a harsh dry halt his mare stopped on her tracks just at the tip of the cliff in a rather convenient coincidence of time. Had he been a second later how wouldn't have been able to grap your forearm as you shot up in the air. No matter his strength and his quick tactics you had managed to startle him with your despairate scream for your horse as it detached from the stirrup that was stuck to your leg, causing him to let you slip for only just a bit. Nonetheless it turns out to be enough to send the rest of your body clashing with sharp rocks. The levels of adrenaline inside you prevent you from realising the damage you have received; an enormous wound that stretches from your back ribs to the under side of your breast, gashing enough blood to slowly drench your clothes crimson.

Levi much in a stressful haze as you, ignores the wound as well, his orbs glued to your petrified expression as your body gives in to a potential tragically painful death. Without wasting anymore time he forces your body up, none of you hearing the sounds of bones cracking and in seconds you find yourself sinking in a puddle of delicate white. This time Levi doesn't fail to notice the hot crimson liquid that contrasts with the snow.

You find yourself unable to speak. Your voice is cracked, stuck in the back of your throat as your sides and more importantly your leg, finally start pulsing with agonizing pain. Even if you try to fixate your hearing to Levi's words you fail miserably, battling hot tears that gather at the bottom of your eyes. Levi helps you on his mare, wrapping you securely with your winter cloak to keep you warm and you sigh in return to his comforting actions.

You only force yourself to speak to inform him of your location in the mountains.

There should be a small barrack like resort of hot springs and saunas around that nobles have abandoned in the last few years and if you took the right path you could reach one of them in time, before the sun set.

That was your initial plan nonetheless, from the moment you got separated with your team. Search parties could definitely find you there faster as well, they would be aware of the locations and by thinking of a right way to pinpoint your location you would save them from a lot of extra trouble. Nobody really wanted to spend so much time in the cold snow searching in vain. You knew that one so far.

"T-theres a hot springs resort, not very far-" you speak, voice trembling with each exhale, making Levi drop his shoulders just a tad in blissful relief.

"Tch, don't push yourself"

"I was searching for one, it shouldn't be far, judging by that cliff we have to head a few miles southwest."

Levi simply nods in response and urges you to hold tight onto him as he sets off. You reach your hand to apply pressure to your wound, you know there's a chance that if you don't even try you're going to die by immense bleeding and Mike will not hesitate to haunt you in the afterlife for not dying like a proper soldier.

Words barely slip your mouth whenever Levi asks for directions or of your condition, the pain you're feeling is excruciating to say at least and you begin to wonder if you're ever going to manage to one of those springs. Levi will have another burden on him, a full dead body to take care of and even though somewhere deep inside you a little ring of panic lingers and you hate yourself for thinking like that you try to stay calm and collected.

As if the God of Walls has been invading your very thoughts you quickly stumble into a breathtaking scenery. A small, snowy paradise lays before your eyes; a wooden cabin with a roof so white that it resembles a bride's vail and a teeny puddle of water that emits sheer smoke. The oasis is well hidden from the tiny trainee headquarters, but you can still make them out, maybe a flare once the storm is over will help you get found out sooner.

"Levi is that really a hot spring, or am I hallucinating?" You check with him, merely to confirm that you're still not in a close to death state.

"I'd be damned if it isn't"

___

"I'm not getting naked in the freezing cold" You bark at him with a tone so high pitched he feels that his eardrums will burst.

"Unbelievable! You're not even calling the shots, your leg is shattered and your side is torn open." Levi's voice is harsh and stern and swelling from the boiling anger in his chest for that he can't bring himself to understand how you even manage to deny the essential medical care you have to receive.

"No!"

"You have wounds to attend to, and I can't do it if you are soaked in dried blood, that being said you'll be infected and full of maggots tomorrow if we don't take action."

Your lips have formed a distinguishable pout in your face, he knows that expression as the one you get when you're being stubborn, difficult even so he takes it upon him not to buck down. No one else is going to die on his watch, especially if it not even by titans.

"Well" you nervously avert your gaze "Maybe I don't want you to see me naked!"

"Do you ever think about what you're saying or do you blurb shit out of your mouth like it's explosive diarrhea?" Levi snairls at you. "This is no time to be a prude."

You're suddenly at loss of words. Prude? He really had just called you prude out of all things, then and there and even he was probably just a little right, you really couldn't bear the thought of you being so suggestive around him. And he seriously doesn't see that, when he is supposed to be an expert at reading people.

Perhaps believing that he looked at you under any other light apart from being your superior was a misjudgment of yours.

Nevertheless when you decide to take off your clothes your efforts fall in vain. The pain in your leg won't even let you have control of the limb and you can barely even shuffle around due to your side. Levi takes a notice, he has to since his eyes are fixated on you and you watch as he comes closer. His hands are most delicate to the touch, helping you wordlessly with the binds of your chest that have stuck to your wound. You let out eventual flinches, huffs of misery from the extravagant pain, making Levi sigh in turn. When his arms wrap around your form your hands go to cover anything you can salvage from his eyes even if he seems to not pay any form special attention to your bare chest.

The situation is rather hard to grasp. One, because you haven't had such soft, warm bath in years and two because Levi, out of all people is in the very same hot spring as you. The water is soothing, flowing peacefully around your body as Levi works his handkerchief around your wound with one hand. The other, he uses to keep you steady in the water making up for the fact that you can't stand on your own feet.

It's a prominent position, if you had to admit. Your forehead rests on the top of his head while your chests barely graze and you have to remind yourself that he's only doing this to take care of you, because he's Levi and he's extraordinary compassionate with his comrades and not because he has any affectionate intention towards you. As unfair as it sounds to you, even if it makes your head and heart grieve the loss of a lover that's not even yours, you can't help but want to look into his eyes. You only manage to do so when he slightly pulls away to grap the bar of soap that rests close to his hand.

You bite your trembling lip in hopes of halting it. He looks like a God under the moonlight, bathed in hot water. Soft unevenly full lips are tinted with sheer purple and his skin is so much more paler than possible that you can see blue and purple blood vessels underneath his eyes. His short ebony locks are sticking to his forehead while droplets travel from their ends to the expansion of his face only to finally gather underneath his chin. Why did he have to look like that, and why did your heart flutter every time his steel eyes blinked into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" It falls out of your mouth mechanically, serving as a bold reminder that your words have once again taken over you.

Levi doesn't exactly react, not just yet, he only examines you with his eyes. Up and down you watch them run until they stop at your lips, your chin, anywhere in that area of your face.

His thumb flickers on his lips but never dares to jump the few centimeters that stand in the way to yours. He's undoubtedly awestruck by your inquiry and you can see it, but your vision is quickly blurred by an unfamiliar piercing feeling. Of course that's rejection. Why would he ever say yes. And most importantly what were you thinking?

"That morphine shot is messing with your head, which means it's probably time to patch you up."

But he doesn't make a single move to ruin the moment. You take notes as his hand leaves his own lips and dives into the water, standing just inches away from your waist. The ungrant permission to touch you in such suggestive way prevents him, even if you're the one who's waiting for a reply to drop from his lips.

He contemplates on the dynamics, is it you that tops him or are you downgrading your position to the title of his chair, he hopes it's the first, it makes him feel free, as if he's not needed to lead for once, deep down all he wants to do is follow.

That boiling spitfire inside of you insists of getting a solid answer, even if you try to push it in the darkest crevice if your mind. It wins, almost without any fight, mostly because you want to hear to believe it.

I don't want you to kiss me. That's all he has to say.

"If you don't do it, now, I'll shit my pants from the anticipation." What?

Without a second thought you shift your head forward, closing the gap between you. His lips are strong, cold and they taste like green olive soap, the one he's always using, but they don't feel foreign on yours. If anything the two pairs lock perfectly as if they're a match made by heavens, meant to find each other in this dark December night under a million snowflakes.

It doesn't last for long, a fact that engrosses you out and it's not lust filled either. It's soft and extremely fragile and you're taking the lead while you slowly move your lips up and down. Levi doesn't know your stomach is about to burst and that you're sure it will slip from the wound on your side if it continues swelling up with all this pride. In turn you don't know that his heart is clenching his chest in agony.

You're extremely against pulling away but you do, to inspect his expression for a brief second. The adorning curling of his lips is in perfect balance with his soft brows. Before you know it his hands are at the small of your back and underneath your clothed bum searching for ways to support you without hurting you. The only hand you can move goes to graze the coarse shaved hair at the nape of his neck.

The second kiss you share is much more passionate and greedy. It takes all you've got to limit your breathing through your nose; you want this to last. Your longing to taste him for as long as you can doesn't allow your lips to slips away from his.

His hands still grip on you so respectfully, as if you're going to regret this and push him away. But it never happens, you just continue to scratch at the back of his head, urging him to get impossibly closer. Even though panic ensues through his whole being, making his hands shake and his cheeks glow red, he manages to pull through this loving task with ease.

He doesn't want to pressure you just yet, so his thoughts never reach the tip of his tongue, but is this for real? Or was it his wild imagination?

With a pinch on his nose he pulls away, sparing a last glance at your swollen lips. "We should... Get out. I'll patch you and then-" As you interrupt him he doesn't miss the way your eyes avert from his.

"Of course sir. I'm sorry I got so carried away."

Levi snorts. So that's how it is then.

[m58]

three from Joshua Martin

Deserted Avalanche Hole in One

 firing squad DIMPLE & carry the two, added up, makes a vomiting like a crying ANTeater slipping on banana peel, joking, the jokester crawls through the landMINES minding his own business to a fault, to an average faced poolhall, there are Lessons LEARNED & seaWEEDs choking perfume gasping water buffalo time machine panache, trash, lashing out, strapped in for antigravity simulation /// look here, the banjo playing ballerina w/ the SNIFFLES,

                                    cough              cough              cough

                        COUGHING                                                   FIT

                                                Errol Flynn     diamond bracelet

            Archibald spoiled the party by playing himself,

meanwhile,

                        ALICE B. TOKLAS

                                    sped through RED

                                                            LIGHT

                                                                        drinking Fruit punch &

                                                eating cold cuts—

her & her historic parades of pondered pinochle games & peanut shell glass house dr., please, dr., don’t tell a soul how far gone we all are, in step & OUT OF WHACK, reading until dawn’s early farting, she in gin floating, she in a corner of a cart, all at former headquarters of cut rate keyboard destroyers—

                                    You see,

                        the flesh                      melts stubbornly,

            not unlike,

                        a                      ketchup&mustard                   dressing gown, hot

sauce PIE

            Chart, leaping

                                    dinner time in the shadow of hannah HOCH,

the                                           groom                         stripped                       NAKED

            &

pouting, doglike, thinned out, wearing glasses, struttin’, shut-in, a million sleeping paradises proposing enigmatic randomness, then loosed for THOU ART LOOSED &

            THOU ART a             STONE

                                                tho STAINED

w/ letters,

            Latinized, church to grave / easel to dumpster / blew to heaving blown up enough trash heaps to make the encyclopedia of information overload once a desire passes for a NEED &

                                                            then                 MARGOT KIDDER   bookends

brothers of

            LIARS,

                        peels of laughing bellhops at risk for calamities,

so very

            un

                        fettered,

                                    feathered, Absurdly drowned b/t stretches over park defined by barbarian coat of many colors, yes unknowns, yes CHAOS, yes you did hear the bookworm shoes correctly,

                        Carlos had another bat fancy

                        idea, see how it sets,

            see how                                   another crushing

PAVEMENT

                                    bellows                                               like GRENDEL

                                                                        flotsam&jetsam

je, tu, il, elle,

            didn’t You have a meeting with Professor Doctor Whatshisface????

                        or,

inside ambitions signals trained to have been promised, snickering, bickering on a beam of sclerotic light, laser, phased out diarrhea of the mouth, syndrome all too familiar, all CNN all the fucked up & leave it alone for the love of eyeball juice, sailing through rimless OCEAN liner house of a 1000 cracked skulls /

                                                                        really,then, You & Yours & the fountain

                                                                        taller than a maniac running

                                                                        than a mannequin squirming,

                                                                                    the sex of the baby

                                                                                                POINTLESS &

                        PROFOUND &                                                                                  Pounded

into head curved swerved hair follicle abundance, hairpiece missions, squirrels on EDGE, another PINOCCHIO for the ages, new decade to test the limits, white water rafting,

                                                TEST TUBE TOP,

                                                            Saturday had revealed

                                                            itself as sudden &

                                                            brief,

truncated sweet meats,

                        a STAR is

                                    RISEN, (deformed)

                                                a BUM is

            grown,

societal salad bowls brains splattered raised to be the spitting image of Wallace Beery, then uncovering plots to render butter tasteless, then VENUS slaps MARS who tells URANUS to go to hello how are you,

                                                not likely to have

                                                unveiled the TRUTHFUL

                                                acrobat cursing shoehorns (the kind)

                                                w/ teeth,

                                    even tho                                  THEY             DON’T exist,

            still, You

wonder,                                   then, in fact,

                        WHAT DOES????????????????????????????????????????????????????

  Preconceived LED Drunken Brawl

 damaged LIKED lifted horizon stumbles

lame duck truck NECK BRACE

                                                embrace

                        of                                 nothing            LIKE

            elephant rippling flesh hair nipple

                        VESTS…spun to gold thread spleen /

                                    rumpled vest/shirt/

ingested bleach substitute

                                                helicopter

PROPELLER…a jet engine                                       JAZZ

                        computer Streaming

                                                momentary lapse of

            un-

                        reasonable lingering push-pull

OF                                           BRANCH / trance

                                    D

                                    A

                                    N

                                    C

                                    e…saying in the round

table, chair, leg, ham, fist,

            grieving MUG / CHUG /

                        high heels down the

Rabbit Hole…fixing diamond,

                                                to Fist

                                                            s…

                        a slimy drop of

Perspiring                                                       ROCK

                                    gulf                 enigma

            ritual

                        sacrificial Hawk wing

of plentiful                              destroying

                                    stammering /

            POUNDING / DRIFTING…when to

find a how TO guide crumpled

up into ball of WAX

                                    reception.

  All Hail the National Disasters

 Swiss doughnut piles swirling green in jest

                                                in AN OUTSTRETCHED

                                    comma                        grinning

                                                                        wild

or (&this is where Simon turned to Simone who had shoes on her hands but no real sense               

       of three hole punching) rhythms pontificating Faustian approvals (at night the knight

       seemed to glow tho not properly enough to prosper like the GHOST of Ebenezer   

       Scrooge shirking his duties at dawn’s early lighter fluid mistaken identity culture

       dump).

                        Keith, the fascist extraordinaire

colored only between the lines,

melting melted snow

                                                HEAD ON

                                     (screwed        on                    BACKWARDS)—

                                                                                                            that

                                                                                                ‘s         enough

tho

                        may

            be                                                        NOT

enough

                                                AT

ALL.

            Cursed, cursed, cursed overlooking an overwhelmed bear scrounging around for

            centipede pill to sell on the black market.

                                                            an

                                                attempted

                                    assassination                           of a

                        FRENCH DIPLOMAT                                               failed

                                                            (how do you define failure?) / .

 Yourself a savior.

Your pants on fire.

Your spawn sweltering.

 This is

no time

for gymnastics! (Simon pulled the rug out from under)

                                                (Simone buried gold teeth under fountains)

             As

long                 toothless

                                    as

squirming                               in triangular imitation

                                                            leather kidneys.

 Cannot.

            Will not.

                        Should not.

Judgmental frostbite & the somehow misleading conditions of modernity.

                                                The UNIVERSE of ZERO

                                                            (0!)

Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is the author of the book Vagabond fragments of a hole (Schism Neuronics). He has had pieces previously published in The Vital Sparks, Breakwater Review, Ink & Voices, The Free Library of the Internet Void, and Paragraph Line. His films have screened at various film festivals including The Pineapple Underground Film Festival, New Filmmakers, Film Al Fresco, Views from the Underground, and The Shooting Wall Film Festival.

[abyssmail]

Caerul’s Mentors: Gracie & Terrence

The Black Whistle who said she would teach her, and the Moon Whistle who actually did.

I ended up writing a lot about stuff people don’t necessarily care about again while overhauling Caerul’s backstory (these characters are both [probably] dead and I wrote a whole damn essay about them asfksaglksda), so under the cut, for anyone who wants to read it:

Gracie

Status: MISSING/PRESUMED DEAD

Gracie was a powerful Black Whistle whose bubbly personality sharply contrasted with her brutal methods.  She was the kind of person who would see a cute fluffy creature (and in one notable case, a pair of children), ask “Is anyone going to adopt this?”, and not wait for an answer.  She was also, purportedly, the kind of person who would slice an enemy delver’s chest open with a shallow incision, reach inside, and snap his ribs individually by hand while his heart still beat in retaliation for attacking one of her squadmates.  The duality of man.  So long as you were not heinously irredeemable or her hapless first apprentice, though, she was kind and gentle to most.  

Confident and capable, Gracie was not only an expert delver, but an exceptional leader, and led a group that specialized in countermeasures against hostile foreign delving squads.  When a team from Orth was sent to retrieve a high-grade artifact, they would either follow behind the group and defend the rear, or forge on ahead on the offensive, discretely rooting out opposition before it could reach the main group.  While even a single White Whistle could do the same task far more efficiently, some diplomatic situations required a greater degree of subtlety, with less recognizable players whose identities would not implicate the small island nation in the brutal dispatch of more powerful countries’ citizens.  Even in the name of protecting its borders, Orth needed to tread carefully in such international disputes, which was where Gracie’s group came into play.  

After their foolhardy antics got them kicked out of Red Whistle training at the orphanage, Caerul and Roseus approached Gracie when she and Terrence, her younger brother and former apprentice, were in town preparing for their next expedition.  Enamored by their enthusiasm, Gracie happily agreed to teach them, and adopted them with the intent to begin their training after she returned from her next dive to the Fifth Layer

Gracie: “We’re keeping them.”

Terrence: “Fuck no, absolutely not—”

Gracie: “Too late lol, my kids now :D”  

However, she never did, and their education instead fell to Terrence, who had stayed behind to watch them.

While Terrence described Gracie as a slave driver of a master, his account should be taken with a grain of salt given his own temperament and relationship with her.  Though she aggressively imposed her own ambitions on her unwilling brother and definitely bullied him into following her path, Gracie likely would have been a much more beloved mentor to apprentices who matched her own relentless drive.  Not soft, per se, but the kind of teacher who could bring such unruly brats to heel by positively redirecting their wild excess of energy and honing their eagerness into something useful.  Unfortunately, she never got that chance, and Caerul, Roseus, and Terrence got stuck with each other.

Gracie’s squad was obliterated, but her body was never found.

Terrence

Status: DEAD

The hapless Moon Whistle who was strong-armed into taking Caerul and Roseus as his students, Terrence was the younger brother and previous apprentice of Gracie, the Black Whistle who’d actually agreed to train them.  Initially only supposed to babysit the twins and give them very basic instruction when Gracie was called down to the Fifth Layer on a retrieval mission, Terrence got stuck with the notorious pair of troublemakers after her return was “delayed”.  Reluctant though he was, persistent guilt-tripping and pestering eventually wrangled some practical teaching out of the jaded Moon Whistle, and he was an effective mentor if and when he was bothered enough. He often required a lot of bothering.

Despite being a highly competent delver, Terrence had little motivation to progress in rank or achievement, and deliberately avoided the Black Whistle exam out of complete disinterest in going any deeper than the Fourth Layer (or indeed, the First, if he had his way).  Once he had thirsted for knowledge of the Abyss’s secrets, but an intense and bloody early career left him burned out and cynical at a young age.  By the time Caerul and Roseus met him, he claimed he was quite happy to never set foot in “that blasted hole” ever again… although somehow he always found himself back in the pit regardless.

Although abyssal warfare wasn’t his area of interest, Terrence became a regular, even crucial member of his sister’s squad as their main strategist.  Blessed with a sharp mind and near-photographic memory, Terrence’s tactical prowess - particular under pressure, especially when dealing with rival delvers - was remarkable, and he greatly improved the group’s kill to casualty ratio when he joined as Gracie’s apprentice.  Terrence technically graduated from his apprenticeship when he achieved the rank of Moon Whistle, but he was a terrible pushover, and Gracie easily coerced him into whatever exploits she pleased.  He remained with the squad until he was needed to watch Gracie’s new apprentices in the upper layers when they were sent to the Fifth, which he had thought would be a much-needed vacation.

Babysitting Caerul and Roseus was anything but restful.  From the minute they woke up (at dawn, daily, without fail), the twins were raring to go, and seemingly determined to get themselves killed by hurling themselves into the Abyss.  If Terrence didn’t come up with something suitably interesting with which to occupy them, they would run off and cause all kinds of trouble.  It was no wonder they were expelled from training at the orphanage.  At best, they were a liability to themselves and anyone around them; without careful direct supervision, an outright danger.  In the large groups Red Whistles typically worked in, it would have been impossible to keep an eye on them all the time without neglecting other children.

As it was, Terrence had his hands full with just the two of them.  Hyperactive though they were, Caerul and Roseus were remarkably bright, and burned through the loose curriculum Gracie had left behind for them—expedition supply management, equipment maintenance, standard and variant delving sign languages and ciphers, basic rope work, etc.—in the first month.  At that point, Terrence felt he’d done his job, and that the brats could wait for their actual master to return, but like ravenous corpse weeper chicks, the twins constantly demanded more from him.  He didn’t initially give it, but as he’d fallen to Gracie’s demands all his life, so too did he give in to the relentless Red Whistles’ constant badgering.

When Gracie’s group missed their projected return date, Terrence wasn’t worried; such a deadline was an extremely rough estimate at best, what with expeditions being unpredictable and time itself being inconsistent at lower depths.  When news of their extinction finally reached him a year later, though, he was distraught.  Caerul and Roseus had only known them briefly, but for Terrence, the loss was his entire life—his friends, his family, his purpose.  He blamed himself for not getting his Black Whistle; if he had been able to go to the Fifth Layer, he would have at least been able to die with them.  He blamed Caerul and Roseus for keeping him on the Surface; if not for them, he could have at least gone as far as the Fourth Layer.  He blamed Gracie for leaving him behind with them in the first place.

Terrence sank into a deep depression, during which Caerul and Roseus were largely left to their own devices - never a good thing.  After getting bored of causing problems on purpose in town, they began wandering deeper and deeper into the Abyss alone.  By this point, the twins were at least proficient enough that the First Layer wasn’t too much of an issue, though there were certainly several near misses.  It was when they decided to stray into the Second when things went wrong.

In frustration at their mentor’s neglect, one fateful day, Caerul and Roseus left a brief note on the kitchen table, as Roseus insisted they did each day “as a record of their progress”.  It read:

“Checking out the corpse weeper nesting grounds to observe chick rearing habits.  Be back for dinner.”

Contrary to what the children believed, Terrence did actually read the notes, and when he found this one, he was horrified.  Horrified enough that he extricated himself from his angst-ridden blanket burrito.  Horrified enough that he went tearing after them faster than he had ever traveled.  Horrified that he might lose the last family he had left.

Fortunately, they never quite made it to the corpse weeper nesting grounds.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to save both idiot Red Whistles.  Terrence caught up with them just in time to see Roseus, captivated by a flower he had never seen before, wander up a clearly unstable cliff, stumble on a loose outcropping, and trigger an avalanche that stranded both children on a precarious ledge teetering over the edge.  Terrence was forced to hastily rig a self-belay line to the only standing outcropping nearby - a spindly thing that could hardly be trusted more than the original traitorous cliff - and repel down to retrieve them one at a time.  He managed to recover Caerul and deposit her on solid footing.  Roseus was not so lucky; the first avalanche triggered a series of smaller ones elsewhere, which eventually triggered another at their location.  What remained of the cliff was destroyed again.  And as skilled as Terrence was at orchestrating the deaths of foreign delvers, protecting two inexperienced children from their own stupidity proved too much for him, and he and Roseus both fell in that cliff collapse.

Caerul avoids reliving the incident as much as possible, but she’s pretty sure Terrence’s last words were “For fuck’s sake.”

[wootensmith]

(Dis)arming

It’s been an awful week. Kicked off with a large stream of hatemail about my paying fiction and I just needed something that wasn’t THAT. I know it’s not my best chapter, but it helped anyway.

It had been a terrible day. A dozen problems cropped up between dawn and his return to the eidolon. Infighting over battle units had started off the day, calling him from the slow, sunlit morning beside the Inquisitor far too early. It was his own fault, the upset that his shift in plans had caused was not unexpected. The military leadership had changed and with it, favored squads had to be shuffled around, new formations learned and taught— and he’d had to smooth over several arguments personally. Just as he’d tamed his fractious forces into something resembling order, a messenger delivered news of a massive avalanche on the White Spire. It had killed two of his people who had been assigned to watch the border with Antiva. The ice swept the base camp clean. It took several hours of travel to reach the site and a few more to retrieve the bodies and melt the snow enough to repair the former structures. The two elves were frozen in shock and fear, stiff like carven wax. Their families had gone to Skyhold. He would have to send word. There would be so many more in the coming weeks. He, and a good portion of the mages with him, were exhausted on their return. He’d plodded through the gates of the city, ready for sleep and little else. But Abelas was waiting, pacing the broken road.

“There were desertions in the night,” he said. “Fifteen for certain. Another five unaccounted for.” Solas leaned against the crumbling knee of a stone Falon’din that stood beside the gates. “After we told them of our alterations, it is not so surprising. Fifteen will not break us, Abelas,” he said. “No, but fifteen mouths become fifty and then a thousand as soon as they reach the nearest town. They carry news that can expose us. Our numbers, our formations— what lies beneath the great seal. It is regrettable, but we cannot let them go.” He pressed his fingers to the base of his skull, deep into the overwound muscle of his neck, trying to push his welling headache back. “Give me their names. I’ll see to it tonight.” It was not a task he wished to perform. He’d have to frighten his people into returning or else eliminate them in their sleep. Regrettable, indeed. But Abelas was right. They could not be allowed to spread word about their activities. Solas did not trust the rest of Thedas not to interfere. Dorian’s small army of mages was one thing, but the southern kingdoms were unlikely to aid them when they knew the plan. Abelas handed him a scroll with a concerned frown. “I can assign the task to the other Dreamers—” Solas shook his head. “No. This is my doing. I will solve it, one way or another.” He pushed himself up from the statue. “Is there anything else to report? News from the border? From the Rift watchers?” “Nothing. All is quiet, the Veil has not experienced any new significant tears.” “Then— I will return to the temple. If you have need of me—” “We will not. Your pursuit of the deserters will not be interrupted.”

Solas nodded and walked slowly to the eluvian. It was well past dusk and the smell of roasting food hung heavy in the city. He had not eaten since early morning. It was likely the Inquisitor had not either. I never lit the veilfire lamp for her, he realized. Without the veilfire to read the maps by, her time would have been spoiled, frustrating. The anchor! He had not siphoned its power since he’d left her that morning either. Panic jolted through him and he dashed the remaining distance to the eluvian. He held his breath sliding through, expecting a blinding emerald glow from Elgar’nan’s eye sockets when the eidolon came into view. But they were dark, the only light a reddish-gold from the temple fires at the massive doors. He hurried up the long path, stumbling on the broken tiles in his exhaustion. When he opened the large doors, the hearth in the center of the temple had wavered and danced, a large pot hanging above sizzling and bubbling. It didn’t occur to him to wonder who had lit it. “Vhenan?” he called. There was no immediate answer. He dragged himself up the stone steps. Dark spatters of water trailed along them. The heat from the fire was almost oppressive after the bitter chill his day had been. He heard a deep slosh before he reached the top and could see the light of the anchor shimmering against the ceiling. Still, he almost ran into her.

She wasn’t looking, too busy trying to hold a large bucket and several rush mats in her hand. She was sweaty, disheveled and the anchor’s thick, angular web shone like one of Thedas’s moons in her face. He grasped her arm and she looked up, startled. “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I didn’t mean to stay so—” he broke off as a smile burst over her. “Solas! I was almost ready. One more bucket.” “One more—” he started as she pulled away from him, heading back down the stairs. “The anchor,” he called after her. “I’ll just be a moment.” He chased her, taking the bucket. “You don’t have to do that. Managed just fine. I can see how tired you are, emma lath,” she said. “What were you doing with the bucket?” he asked, setting it beside the hearth. He watched her lift the large pot from the fire and set it down. It took her several more movements to get it poured into the bucket. He fought the urge to help, though the way her missing arm caused her to overbalance so close to the flame made him nervous. “Filling the bath,” she said at last. “I could have done—” “That’s the point,” she interrupted. “It was so you wouldn’t have to.” She lifted the bucket, puffing a little as she steadied herself. “Come on,” she said, and it came out soft and light, “if it gets cold, I’ll need to start over. Can’t just reheat it with a spell anymore.” He followed her slowly back up the steps. “If your bath gets cold, I can do that for you,” he offered. She shook her head, laughing. “You think I’d do this for my bath? Used to chip the ice open in the Minanter to bathe. It’s for you, Solas.”

She stopped at the side of the large tub, set down the bucket to adjust her grip. “Sevren told me about the avalanche.” She poured the bucket of steaming water in slowly. “I am sorry about your people.” “Our people.” “Ours. I am sorry, Solas.” “As am I. I ought to have thought, the thaw always—” “Don’t,” she told him her fingers drifting over the metal of his armor. “It was not your doing. Just snow. If you should have known, then so should your scouts. You are no more responsible for it than they are. I know that’s easy to say— and hard to mean. I know.” “More than most would,” he agreed. “Rest now. You can do no more than you have for them.” He nodded. She looked at him expectantly as he stood there and then flushed with a start. “Oh,” she stammered, “I’ll go if— I’ll be in the vestibule. There are linens over—” She pointed to a neat pile of cloth on a nearby bench and he caught her fingers. They were so much warmer than his chilled ones. She noticed and tried to enclose his hand with her other, faltering when she realized she could not. Instead, she pulled his hand to her face, using her breath to thaw his fingers.

“Stay,” he said. “I need to stabilize the anchor—” “Stop. Rest. There is nothing that needs doing. The anchor will be fine another hour. Another day.” “No, it was already more intense than I expected this morning.” She shook her head and let go of his hand, reaching instead for the heavy buckle of his bracer. He tried another tack as she worked the leather straps loose. “If I stabilize it, the excess energy may— help.” She looked up at him, alarmed. “I am so tired, Vhenan,” he admitted. “It has been— a harrowing day. And there is more work to be done yet in the Fade.” “If it will aid you, then of course,” she said, but the worry didn’t fade from her face. He twisted the bracer loose and it dropped, clattering to the stone floor. He slid his fingers beneath the collar of her tunic to grip her shoulder. She shivered, but remained still. She pretended it was manageable, but he felt her loosen under his hand as the anchor drained. I should not have left it so long. “Stay,” he repeated as he released her. “Please. You claimed I did not need you in the crossroads. Because I— found no difficulty destroying our enemies. As if the only value I could see in you were in battle.” “I did not mean it. Not that way. And I didn’t mean for you to carry it as a hurt all this time. Ir—” He stopped the apology, pulled it from her mouth into his, where he thought it ought to be. “I need your voice, your sanity,” he told her as he pulled away. “Especially now. It was— is a small distance to fall into cruelty. At the crossroads and here. It is too easy to lash out when things— deviate. It’s not your lightning or your barriers I require any longer. It’s your kindness. For all their willingness to join me— there is no elf here who would comfort me this way. A bath, a fire, a soothing story. You, alone, would know how badly I needed them. Stay, talk to me. Give me a good dream, Vhenan. Ar nuven’in ma.” Her hand slid over his cheek, his jaw. “And here I am,” she said. “Do not fret. I only meant to give you some privacy. I will stay, if you wish.” Her hand returned to his other bracer, tugging and then loosening. She laid it aside with more care than he had shown its brother.

Solas felt a pang of guilt at that. The armor had been a mighty labor. Something his people had given him to protect himself. He ought to have— “Where ever you’ve gone,” she said quietly, “return and help me with this chest plate. I cannot lift it with one hand.” She pulled off one heavy pauldron and struggled to lay it on the floor without dropping it. He unbuckled the other, but she stopped him. “The chest plate, I said,” she told him. “I can do the rest.” “You don’t need—” “I wish to,” she insisted, pulling the other pauldron off. He freed himself from the chest piece, sighing as the weight on his back lessened considerably. And then the thin, flexible chain beneath, jingling as she laid it on the stone. “It is strong armor,” she said, kneeling at his feet. “It comforts me to know you are so protected. Even if it seems I am disassembling a golem to find you beneath it.” “There was a time I wore armor like this every day for a century. I find myself unaccustomed to the weight now.” He slid his foot out of its sabaton, bracing himself against her shoulder and then caressing her hair before she could move to the next. “I am— always glad to shed it.” It was a delicate thing, skating around the enormous task that would soon be upon them. A dangerous thing, mentioning it. He feared the grief of it would crush him. Harden your heart, he told himself. She does not weep. It would only frighten her to see you do so. His other foot released and she rose again to help him with his greaves, noticed the strain on his face.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, trying to alter his thoughts before they could settle, like sediment, into stone. “I am certain you’ve eaten less than I,” he answered, gently pushing her hand from the stubborn clasps to unhook them himself. “I should have thought of it before I went to the training yard. I did not mean to be gone so long. And the veilfire lamp—” He turned to look for it, expecting it dark on the large table. But it glowed brightly in its normal place. “Abelas came looking for you. He was angry, but would not say why. He lit the lamp for me and— went away again.” He closed his eyes, just for a moment, rubbed again at the back of his neck where the ache and the grief pulsed and swelled. “Deserters. He was coming to tell me of deserters. As if the fools could escape the Blight just by leaving Arlathan. And now I must hunt them. Persuade them to return or—” She pressed her hand tight to his chest. He could feel his own pulse against it. “Leave it, just for now,” she pleaded. He returned to the last clasps of his armor. “I am— not certain that I can,” he admitted. “You could let them go.” She helped him slide the right cuisse from his leg. He forced a weak smile. “You have been speaking to Cole. I cannot, my love. Even if they mean only to save their own skin and not to fight us, they know too much about us. In the wrong hands, that information could be deadly to far more than just the small number of deserters. This is not the Inquisition. It is not the loss of fighters that concerns me. I will be swift and make it as painless as possible.” She stripped the other cuisse from him, left him standing in thin cloth only. No more metal to carry around. “They are frightened, Solas. Their deaths won’t help you, it will only frighten more into leaving.” He drew closer to her, traced the green threads of the anchor across her cheek and over her throat with his fingers. “Ma halani, Vhenan, what would you do? When you must protect your people, what course would you take with those who betray them?”

“You made them forget once. The way back to Skyhold. The trap you’d worked to build together. Could you not— just leave them? Take the memory of Arlathan from them and let them go to take what time is left and live in peaceful obliviousness. They are already broken. What use is there in forcing them to return? They would only seek another way out in time. And there is so little remaining.” It was something he hadn’t considered. He laughed softly. “I am a fool. I should believe you when you tell me there is another option that I cannot see, for you always show me. Ma serannas, fanor. How can you think I do not need you?” She smiled and he felt as if the armor had dropped away all over again, the weight of the day vanishing. “I think what you need is some rest. And something to eat. You are not a fool. Just exhausted.” She tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “Give me an hour of your thoughts. Only an hour. I cannot heal you with a spell, but perhaps I may find another way.” He pulled his shirt from his back, reached for the lacings of hers. She laughed even as he kissed the corner of her jaw. “There is not room enough in the tub for two,” she warned him. “There is not room enough in an hour to hold all my thoughts of you, either,” he said into the humid skin of her neck, “But I make the attempt anyhow.” Her mouth was soft against his earlobe, his jaw, his own lips. “The hour was not all I wanted,” she said. “Only what I dared ask for.” “Be brave,” he told her, his hands already sliding over the warm skin of her back below the loose tunic. “Ask for more.” Her hand pressed gently at his temple, rubbed soothing circles over the skin of his head, lessening the ache. “It isn’t my turn to ask,” she whispered. “I am meant to be cheering you, remember?” “You do.” “Then let me. The bath will be cold.”

He reluctantly slid away from her, sinking into a seat on the warm floor to unthread the wrappings over his feet. She knelt beside him and began on the other foot. “I saw you today, as a boy. In a scrap of veilfire.” “Me?” he asked. “I doubt it was me. Slaves did not merit tomes in the vir’dirthara. And though I was young at the point I was freed, I could not have been called a boy, even by the standards of the era. It must have been a noble’s child you saw.” She smiled, shook her head. “It was you. I would know your face anywhere, even colored by another’s memory of you. You still had the vallaslin. But you were very happy. I think— I think you might have stolen a sweet. Someone has been leaving veilfire for you on the temple walls.” “Stolen a—” a laugh burst from him when he realized who had left it. “Vhemanen. I rather think she left those for you. She kept expecting you to return here. A chance to show you who I was, once.” She let the cloth strip go to curl her fingers into his own. “I am grateful to her then.” She returned to his footwrapping. “For the recipe, too. She seemed to think it was your favorite. I am no chef. You will have to forgive me if they do not taste the same.” She rose, offering her hand to help him rise. “I am no chef either,” he said, “That’s why I resorted to stealing them.” “Oh? It wasn’t the added danger that added a sweeter flavor then?” He smiled, but it withered. “If it were the danger, then the ones you’ve made now will be far superior to the ones I took as a boy.” “No,” she whispered, her hand tightening in his. “None of that, now. An hour, Solas. Let us have a good dream, just for an hour.” He nodded and she drifted away, letting him finish undressing while she clinked tableware across the room.

He slid into the deep tub and found it still pleasantly warm. When had he last bathed in heated water? A hasty scrub in the temple’s stone basins was his usual habit. He’d only heated them once in a while for Vhemanen’s sake, when her joints pained her. Summer, he guessed, when the small pools around the valley had warmed in the sun. I should warm them for her. She may be willing to bathe in the frozen Minanter, but I cannot imagine it is comfortable. Vhemanen, at least had the ability to heat them herself. It didn’t require large bundles of firewood and several heavy buckets carried up stairs. He watched the Inquisitor carefully carry a small tray to the tub. Is it safe? he wondered. Would it cause the anchor to grow if I heated the water? “Why are you frowning?” she asked, placing the tray on a low table beside him. “It’s gone cold, hasn’t it?” she asked, thrusting her hand into the water. “No,” he laughed, “I was only wondering if I could return the favor or if there would be residual magic in the bath water if I—” She flicked a few drops of water at him from the tips of her fingers. “You sound like Dorian. I am content with cool bath water if it means I have a little more…” she trailed off. “Besides,” she began again brightly, “I know that seven buckets only take an hour to heat over the fire now, should I wish to do that.” “Tomorrow, I will carry the buckets. But in the meantime, we should not waste your labour. Join me?” He held out a hand to her. She laughed and took his hand bending to kiss him.

“Maybe,” she said against his lips. He pulled gently on her arm and she relented, climbing into the warm water. Her shirt puffed as it filled with air and then clung, all of her outlined in green tracings that shone through the cotton. Water dripped over the edge of the tub, splashing on the tile with a patter. “I thought you were going to get undressed first,” he said as she settled over him. “Is that all you wish?” she asked, reaching for the cup from the table beside her. She took a drink and then offered it to him. The light scent of cider met him. “No,” he raised the cup to his mouth. “But it is all I dare to ask for.” He watched her laugh and flush. “Be brave,” she told him, “Ask for more.” He placed the cup down and pulled her closer, his wet hand soaking through the small section of her shirt that was not already damp. “How could I ask for more, when you already give me so much? No other would care to hear my fears. No other wants to see when I am hurt or tired. When I am not invincible. It would— frighten them. No one but you wishes to give the Dread Wolf a good dream.” She blinked back a few bright tears. “It isn’t enough—” “It is, it is. More than I dared to ask.” “I wanted to press a whole life’s worth of love into the time we have left, the few days that remain. I don’t know how, Solas.” “I know no more than you, though I have had many lifetimes to manage it. You cannot force a limitless thing into a finite container, no matter how large the container might be.” He loosened the collar of her shirt, the laces floating on the surface of the water. He kissed her marked shoulder where it tangled in vines of light. She wrapped an arm around him and her hand dripped warm droplets down his back. “But I will attempt to, anyhow. My hour is not yet spent. Ar nuven’in ma.”

[whiskeyworen]

SONNYA - SHATTERPOINT

(title suggestion by LaurenRivers)

"We've wounded the beast! It can't fly away!" The Vigil warmaster roared from his position behind the mortars. A thousand voices roared back in the affirmative from the plain below. Down there, on the tainted, amethyst-shaded plains of the Lowland Burns, warriors of all stripes battled hordes of Branded monstrosities. Blood splattered the field, as did shattered crystal and stone, as both sides crashed upon each other. Above it all, the Shatterer had made its presence known. The massive Dragon Champion, all ebony stone, glittering purple crystal, and stuttering electrical discharges, had joined the fight, only to be pounded on from three positions around the valley. Using Its wings to shield Its body, It had resorted to flinging the occasional lavender flame at the fortresses and the berm where the mortars and cannons were stationed, while also lashing out with clawed hands and feet the size of Charr battletanks. On Its own, It was fully the size of one of the fortresses, and was capable of wreaking terrible devastation outside the Brand, should it ever venture out. That's why the plan had been to lure the beast to the valley. The valley where the Vigil had been born in the golden breath of the Shatterer's master was to be its doom. Again.

It was well known that the Shatterer was merely the title granted to the largest of Kralkatorrik's draconic minions. Every time one was brought down, it bought the whole of Ascalon territory a few months before the next minion self-evolved to replace it. And there were far, far too many of the smaller dragon-forms to destroy. It was easier to just wait till a new one rose, then kill It. This, of course, would be the one-hundred-thirty-seventh Shatterer to be tricked into fighting in Lowland Burns. No one ever said the Branded were smart.

This Shatterer was enraged. It had been badly wounded when a particularly lucky volley of shells from the Skara Braevus fort's mega cannon had caught It in a moment of distraction, and blew a wing clear off, as well as put several smoking, sparking holes in Its crystal carapace and what might have passed for internal organs (if It had any). Unable to fly away, It raged, lashing around with a spiked tail longer than the Bilrost Bridge in Hoelbrak, and unleashing purple lightning everywhere it could. At one point It had tried to spawn healing crystal formations, calling upon the power Its master had given It over anything tainted with Brand, but the Vigil had put paid to that in seconds flat; they knew what would happen if they left those unattended. A specialized set of explosive rounds shattered each one seconds after they grew, leaving the Shatterer even angrier than before. "All forces! Move in! Anything with range: Open fire now and don't stop! Everyone else defend yourselves!" The Warmaster roared, rolling a charrzooka onto his shoulder and firing a few shots off himself from its magazine. The rockets were unguided, but the target was just so damned BIG. As he watched them detonate on the beast's shoulders and chest, and watched the outpouring of fire from the troops under his command, he grunted to himself. "No point in trying to hit It with a sword; bastard that big wouldn't even feel it anyway." That's when the battle seemed to turn; the beast's swipes became crushing slams, and he watched in horror as the dragon minion decimated a third of his legion with a few well-placed palm-slaps. "NO! All ground forces fall back! Fall back! Let the cannons work!"

*** The retreat began immediately as everyone realized the danger. Problem was that, dug in this close, and also fending off Branded ground assaults as creatures spawned before them, the troops were slow. In some cases, fatally slow. Branded and Vigil both died beneath the Shatterer's ebony claws. Seemingly satisfied for a moment with the devastation it wrought, the beast reared back to survey the field, to calm itself and focus away from raw rage. It had just begun to note the importance of that loud Charr on the mortar mount with the shoulder launcher when a scorching ball of blue fire slammed into its face, just below Its right eye. A surprised bark of pain escaped it; the fire had burned close enough to the eye to damage the crystalline lenses that passed for its eyes. Even the black stone that made up Its scales was seared slightly.

Shaking Its massive head to ward off the pain, It began to track where the fireball had come from with Its remaining eye. The small arms and mortar fire against its body was a small annoyance, compared to something that had half blinded It.

This was an insult that had to be responded to. *** Down below, with a look of dawning horror rising on her face, Sonnya realized that her errantly thrown Zealot's Flame had missed the creature she'd been aiming at and had continued on to smack dead-on to the Shatterer itself. Judging from how It slowly and deliberately turned Its face towards her, the eye on the damaged side closed while the other burned with cold hate, she also realized it was now looking for her. A low, ultrabasso growl rolled from it when Its baleful eye focused on her.  Oh yes, It had very much picked out which luckless mortal had injured It.

"Ohh I'm-in-trouble." Sonnya squeaked, eyes wide as she took a few stumbling steps backward. "I'm-in-trouble, I'm-in-trouble, It's looking at me!"

In the back of her mind she could hear the Warmaster calling for a general retreat.  All around her, Vigil infantry fell back to secondary positions. But for her, she was practically frozen to the spot.

It was an accident. She had intended to knock a Branded griffin out of the air for another squad to deal with, but as she threw her Zealot's Flame, the bird-beast was knocked out of the air by some warrior with a warhammer, and her shot went afield. Very far afield, apparently; instead of dissipating, Zealot's flame would continue until it struck something. In this case, tragically.... it had continued on through the air until it struck the Shatterer.

Right in a spot that was sensitive enough to draw Its ire in a way that massed fire from the rest of the army simply had not.

The size comparison between them was gut-churningly obvious; Sonnya was just shy over three feet tall. The Shatterer might have been easier to measure in quarter-miles. At least, that was how far Its FACE seemed to be to her when It spotted her. Its head alone was the size of the Council Chambers cube in Rata Sum. While the Its head might have been a quarter-mile away and half again as high in the air, Its right claw was only a few dozen meters away from her and the others around her. That claw, in a very practiced and deliberate motion, swept off the ground with a velocity and violence that tore entire chunks of land from beneath it just with its passage. Time seemed to slow as it began a fatal arc, hovering for mere moments at its height before coming down with terrifying speed. The impact cracked the ground for meters on every side, and the downburst of wind blew everyone and everything in the immediate area away.

There was a moment of terrible silence after that tremendous handslap. The battle all around seem to slow, as everyone, Vigil and Branded alike seemed to turn to see what had just happened. The Shatterer seemed to grin for a moment, before a confused growl escaped Its black-toothed maw. Its claw hadn't quite met the ground; It could feel Its talons hovering above the ground slightly. There was NO way anything could have resisted Its power, could there? That's when It, and everyone else noticed a slowly growing blue glow from under Its claw. Something akin to blue flame began licking out tenatively from under the paw. Everything about the battle seemed to pause, as the Shatterer continued to stare at its last strike.

***

Sonnya had seen the claw coming. There was no time to move. Everyone around her had tried to run, or had slipped and fallen. Even the Branded beasts had faltered as the Shatterer wound up its claw for the strike.

She couldn't dodge. Couldn't run away. If she stood there, she would die. She couldn't even use a Shield of Absorption to take some of the impact while she tried to escape: Sonnya had never learned the technique. She wouldn't be able to use it anyway, not with her torch and axe. So she did the only thing she could.

With the claw descending at a frightening speed, Sonnya let her weapons fall from her hands, and jumped onto a nearby rock to give herself some height. With any luck, she'd be in a spot taller than any of her compatriots in the area.

Putting her hands up, she ran her magical energy through the Aegis shield generators implanted in every part of her gear, strengthening her entire form to a level she'd never tried before. Her armor would effectively lock in one position, each shield interconnecting with the ones around it, each armor plate and joint freezing as the magitech she had hidden under its surface lit up with power. The only thing she didn't add into the equation were her other modifications. Hopefully she wouldn't have to resort to them.

She'd tested it before, with less power and in controlled situations. At 50% power, she could pick up the heaviest Norn with ease, her armor taking the majority of the weight. carrying a warhammer or greatsword was as easy as picking up a news sheaf. At 100% power, she suspected she could pick up extemely heavy objects, or even survive avalanches or rockslides. The interlocked shields of her Armor Lock Aegis would deflect all but the heaviest impacts, until their power ran out.

But this? She'd never stress-tested for anything like this, and if it blew out... There was no evidence she'd even be able to survive this level of impact! Then it hit. The black palm of the Shatterer descended on her, the pressure wave of displaced air Its hand caused buffeted her but also held her in place on the rock. Around Sonnya, everyone was blown aside or over. There was a good chance anyone in the shadow of the hand was going to die in the next second. As it struck, the sheer violence of it coursed down through Sonnya's structurally-enhanced armor and actually pushed the stone she was standing on down into the ground, almost so she was back at ground level. Her armor's monitors screamed at her about the pressure; the number it indicated was not something she wanted to think about right now, but it far exceeded what she'd personally rated as 'safe'. On her back, the holographic wings she'd added strictly out of playfulness sputtered out as their meager power supply was diverted into her shields. But it held. Somehow, it held. SHE held. It hurt everywhere; the pressure on the Aegis was so much it was still somehow inflicting damage to her simply through reflexive strength. She grunted in pain and pushed back as hard as she could, keeping that claw from crushing her. Already she could see sections of her armor starting to spark, and she could hear a rising hum from the various power sources built into her gear. That hum was heading swiftly into a painful squeal. Her visor's meters had shot directly into the red and were staying there, so she couldn't get an active read, but the sectional diagram of her armor showed where pressure was building up and where internal power was failing.

It was failing swiftly. Damnit! She thought rapidly. In her limited field of vision, she could see the energy discharges popping off her armor plate as sections of protective wards immediately began to buckle. Secondary systems started kicking in, but they were rapidly and easily stretched between trying to mend the primary circuits, and maintaining her own personal Aegis field. The Aegis field was quite literally the only thing keeping her from being turned into an unpleasant stain on the rock. At this rate my armor's shield is gonna burn out, and I'm gonna get crushed! I gotta... That's when she heard the whimper. It was quiet, amongst the roar and clash of battle, but at that moment, in the silence after the impact, with almost supernatural sensitivity, she heard it. There was someone else there under that claw with her. She couldn't turn her head, the way her armor had locked up, but the display on her visor had marked heat sources in the immediate area. Most were cooling but a few were warm enough to be living. Maybe a few? And the only thing keeping them from dying was her. As she stared in blank terror at the heat source mini-map in the corner of her vision, her visor began to crack from the stress. A quarter of her vision instantly fuzzed out as the vision crystals cracked. I... I can't just give up... She told herself. There were other voices around her, behind her. Other survivors that were only alive because SHE was holding the deadly claw back. They needed every chance she could give them to get out, to survive...because it really didn't look like she was going to be able to herself.

Sonnya frowned, snarling, as the familiar blue fire sprang up around her. If I do, I'm dead, they're dead, and this slagging BEAST wins! The blue flames licked up along her arms and spread rapidly, faster than she'd ever called them forth. They spread not with the speed of a bonfire but more in the manner of a blowtorch flame, to score at the underside of the Shatterer's claw. As Sonnya's despairing rage turned into determination, into wrath, so the flame of her faith did grow, increasing in heat and strength. It was the faith in her own anger. That kind of flame simply does not get put out.

Above, the Shatterer grunted and tried to apply more pressure to whatever was now starting to cause It pain, completely ignoring the entirety of the Vigil task force to smash this annoying bug. If It had had the cultural references, It might have described the sensation as a hot nail driven into its palm...and getting hotter by the second. Best crush the fire out and be done with it. So It leaned in more.

With multi-tons of pressure weighing down on her, Sonnya was forced down to a knee. More sections of her armor began to buckle under the intense weight, their resistance already maxing out to the point they were burning out from inside. Her visor gave up measuring power usage and shield strength entirely, the displays distorting with glitches and error messages.

There was a loud prang!  and a pauldron panel blew off, the portion of the Aegis there terribly weakened. Sparks and fire burst from the broken Asuran tech hidden beneath the armor, and Sonnya cried out in pain. With that segment destroyed, her visor's damage indicator finally displayed the actual damage, and the loss of power, which she automatically rerouted away from the shattered section, strengthening the rest of her armor by mere percentages. Square-cubed law....is in my favor for now... She grunted in her head, as she watched her remaining armor's shield meters climb for a moment. The less I have to shield, the more power I have to redirect to what I DO have to shield. She grinned savagely in spite of the pain wracking her. Her arms and legs were on fire inside, and she really didn't want to know what that meant in the long run. As long as she could keep her power up, maybe the dragon would lift its paw and she could escape. There was another cry of fear from nearby, and a few more whimpers of terror from injured and surviving Vigil around her. It was a sound that stoked her rage even higher, that need to protect, and despite the screamed warnings in her ear from her armor, she pushed back. More of her armor began cracking, buckling, the intense feedback too much for the enhancers to withstand. Legs, ribs, arms.... panels began to pop like popcorn, but her system kept rerouting the power to non-damaged sections, trying to keep her alive. It was doing a valiant job, but while each lost section meant the others got stronger, if too many went, there wouldn't be enough stable structure to keep Sonnya from becoming a smear on the ground. With tremendous effort, she shakily rose back to both feet, teeth grinding with the effort. The muscles in her limbs burned with the effort, but... She was doing it! "I...can't do this forever..." She grunted to anyone within earshot. "So run while you can. I'm about to do something...really stupid... and it might get me killed." Without waiting for an answer, she finally did the one thing she had been too afraid to ever do. She activated all of her physical implants at full power. Not her suit upgrades; she'd already used them all up. What she activated were other modifications she'd made...the ones she never told anyone about. The illegal, immoral ones.

The upgrades she had done, secretly, to her living body, in flagrant violation of a dozen Vigil and Rata Sum Council strictures.

Over two dozen Aethermotive Circuit nodes, embedded in the living flesh of her body went from 10% power to 100%. Raw magical power, fed by her into the system that laced her body, was converted into structural strength, magnified magical power ... everything. From there, it cascaded into what few sections of her armor were still functional and ramped them up into the red, far beyond their rated maximums. Glowing power crystals and external circuit paths suddenly flared incandescent with unleashed power. No matter what now, her armor was going to be toast. If she was lucky, she would not fry along with it.

It was her last ditch effort. *** If the body was a tank of water, and magical energy was the water within, and using magic was like opening a spigot to release some water.... Sonnya had just ripped a huge hole in the side of her tank. At the most, she might have had a minute or two of this hyper-enhanced state before she was drained to exhaustion.

It was incredibly dangerous to use. The implants, if used at the theoretical limit, might end up killing her, either by burning out her body, or by literally sucking all her magic and life essence out to power themselves, and by extension, what remained of her armor's systems. Sonnya had no idea what would happen if she reached that limit, but it probably would not be good. On top of that, they also did one more thing, which could mean her death.

Everyone knows that in times of stress, the body can temporarily suspend its own limiters to do the impossible, even if that ends up damaging itself. The old story of the young mother who lifts and flips a caravan cart that collapsed on their child. Or hauling a boulder many times their own weight into the air for the same. Some call it hysterical strength, and if misused can be horribly damaging. The muscles of the body can produce more energy than they can survive, and if ever used at their true strength, would rip themselves from the body violently. It's one of the reasons that one cannot use fully 100% of their possible strength; the body would not survive the experience.

The implants let Sonnya bypass the natural limiters, and use her own muscle strength at, theoretically, maximum. Or as close to as to seem like it.

In raw, physical and magical terms, if her armor afforded her a 100% boost in strength and durability, and magnified her magic by the same, her implants on their own would have done double that merely on their own....but at the cost of her very self. The combination of the two, with the armor now feeding off and magnifying her enhanced everything, would be devastating.

Provided she survived it at all. ***

"...It's time to use it!" She roared, and pushed back, not just with her hands, but with the flame of her Zealot's Fire. The angry blue flame that licked up around the Shatterer's palm suddenly magnified in intensity, and swiftly began focusing, becoming a pillar of white-blue plasma so bright that Sonnya disappearred in its heart, while it boiled out from around the Shatterer's claws like it had placed its hand on a volcanic geyser. "BURN, you BITCH!" The Shatterer had a moment to blink in surprise before Its claw actually began to bubble and melt under the intense, highly focused heat of the little Guardian's fire. A snarl of pain and surprise grumbled from It, as Its paw was pushed back... back... and back, as Sonnya took step after heavy, agonized step. The Warmaster could see from his vantage that something was pushing the claw away, but could not see what. Just a hell of a lot of raging blue fire boiling out from around a claw that was quickly going molten. What he did know for sure was there were living people there, and they needed support. "Guardians! Get those Shields up! Mandala configuration!" Every Guardian in the area with a shield acknowledged and ran to the crater, sliding into the bowl and popping their shield bubbles in a complex, overlapping pattern. As they overlaid their shields, the collective strength magnified as each barrier took a bit of the weight away from its neighbours, reducing the strain on all. It was what Sonnya's Aegis armor upgrade was based on. The pressure on Sonnya quickly lessened with their support.

From an outsider's perspective, the multiple bubble shields overlapped in an almost hypnotic way, spheres within spheres, circles within circles. It was why it had been called the Mandala Configuration, after all. Sonnya's burning pillar of blue wrath was less a torch at the center of the design, than a rocket engine, still eating away at the Shatterer's paw with its raging, directed inferno. The arrival of shield Guardians took stress off Sonnya immediately. With her systems no longer stretched to critical just to hold up the paw, Sonnya diverted more and more power and energy into the Zealot's flame, taking advantage of her implants to their fullest potential. Instead of bringing them down to a safer level and letting her companions shield her, she kept them at full power. The strength of her fire, her faith, her determination grew exponentially. Screaming in rage, she poured it all out of her hands and mouth. The blue fire, symbol of a Guardian,  the blue flame that purged corruption across Tyria, roiled out of her in a torrent. That flame, focused by her implants and her own mental strength, had been tightened down from a blazing inferno to searing beam. Now that she no longer needed to draw power away to protect herself, she poured every erg she had into that beam.

The Shatterers' claws, which had been bubbling and beginning to go molten in the intense heat, seemed to evaporate, segments blistering away even as the beast tried to pull back. In a roar of agony, the dragon reared back, yanking Its claw away, charred and melted material trailing in an arc to spatter across the battlefield. There was almost nothing left of the claw, save a shrivelled, melted stump that didn't even have any claws left. The talons, what was left of them anyway, had either been blown away by the searing flame or had crashed heavily to the ground, molten and dribbling. Seeing this, the Shatterer bayed, rearing upon Its hind legs while clutching the smoking stump of Its hand. Sonnya wasn't done yet. There were still a few seconds left for all that power she'd unleashed. Arms and legs screaming with effort and agony, she made a heavy leap onto a rock outside the impact crater, drawing all that flame back into her fist. Normally, her hand would have been filled with a bright blue flame, but the sheer power condensed into it now made it hard to look at. It was like looking at the heart of a star. There was an audible whoosh as the aura of flame imploded down into her fist.

The physical strain of focusing all that power finally overloaded her visor, and the segmented shell of it exploded outward, the remnants falling away from her face to reveal the pin-pupilled, wrathful gaze of the diminutive Guardian. If any had been close enough to see through the glare, they might have noticed the subtle glow of angular circuits beneath her skin, as they drew more and more magical strength from her living body. With a perfect, dead-straight throw, she hurled her Zealot's fire again, but with the enhanced strength of both her armor AND her implants. Instead of arcing gracefully, the raging ball of blue light and plasma darted like a bullet across the field and smashed through the crystal making up the beast's right thigh, detonating on impact and severing it instantly, leaving the remainder on fire and melting. In the throw's critical moment, as the searing orb left her hand, Sonnya's gear finally gave out. With a series of high-speed crackle-and-pops, the overstressed magic circuits, the Aegis worn till its breaking point, the energy shunts and funnels that had kept her alive; all of it disintegrated. In one moment, she was wearing heavily battered armor covered in glowing circuits; in the next, pieces were exploding off her in every direction. If she could have seen the integrity levels, they would have read at -300%. Catastrophic physical failure. The dragon pitched forward onto Its chest, and Sonnya, her energy expended, her body in agony and her armor utterly destroyed, fell off the rock, rolling down the slight grade to rest against a chunk of charred metal. She took a deep, painful breath and bellowed as loud as she could into the momentary silence the Shatterer's collapse had caused. "SOMEBODY KILL THAT GODS-DAMNED THING!" The response was succinct and perfect. In unison, the surviving Vigil roared their affirmation, and fell upon the Shatterer as a horde. The beast could barely fight back, as badly wounded as It was, and in a matter of minutes It breathed Its last and, much as Its name suggested, It shattered into trillions of shards as Kralkatorrik's strength left It. The guardians that had been maintaining the Mandala configuration immediately dropped the shields and went about tending to the wounded, though a lot of them were nursing their own wounds. Many of them were still shaken to have seen what they had. A few of them quickly began to tend to Sonnya's wounds, marvelling that she was even still alive, let alone in one piece. She wasn't absolutely in one piece, though. As she lay there, breathing painfully, Sonnya could tell she was going to need a lot of magical restoration and recuperation. She felt....broken. Once again, she cried in her mind I was not strong enough. It's not ENOUGH. The Warmaster was one of the first to get to her as she was loaded onto a stretcher. The Charr shook his head in amazement at the battered little asura; her armor was scored and broken in dozens of places, the power channels he could see had overloaded completely and were dark. Parts of it still sparked as fitful amounts of power discharged through the system. Other parts were completely missing, exposing bare skin that looked painfully raw. He couldn't be sure, but it even seemed like some of the circuitry had cooked its way onto her skin, leaving painful, charred marks. Sonnya herself looked just as destroyed. She was bleeding around every single one of the strange gems that were embedded in the skin he could see through the broken armor, and some of them looked scorched. He wondered if she had suffered any internal damage, given how utterly broken everything else was. He sincerely hoped not. "Damn, Asura. What the hell was that? I've never seen anything like that." He commended her conversationally. There was something about the way she was just staring straight up that bothered him. Her gaze seemed....vacant. Sonnya lolled her head to look at him, that empty gaze still giving him the chills. It was like no one was really home. She could barely move. Every muscle felt torn and every joint felt broken. She felt so tired and drained.... "It's my fault.  I missed and... I drew its attention." The Charr chuckled. "Maybe so, Asura, but even if it hadn't turned its focus on you, it still might have swatted you eventually." He crossed his arms. "You might not have had the warning that you did get. Or saved the lives you did, when you did...whatever that was." As she was carried away, she sighed tiredly. "I put everyone near me in danger, all because I missed. I can't afford to be so..." She trailed off, half from exhaustion and unconciousness, half from being unable to finish the sentence due to the lump of shame in her throat. The Warmaster watched her go, feeling an odd sense of misgiving taint his happiness at the victory.

***

A month later, the Warmaster knocked on a particular chamber door in Vigil Keep. The current victory against the Shatterer was still being celebrated among the troops, though as time passed those celebrations began to peter out.

The person on the other side of the door had been in intensive care for the last three weeks, having spent a full week in a healing coma, and had finally recovered enough that she was fully awake and moving, if still bed-ridden.

"Knock knock." He growled pleasantly as he eased himself into the room. "You decent, Sonnya?" "As decent as someone as injured as I was can be. " Came the sardonic, tired reply from the hospital bed. In spite of repeated healings, magical, herbal and medicinal, Sonnya was still not in top form. The Warmaster could see that, observing the various bandage bindings around her limbs, and the headwrap disturbing her normally clean hairline. She offered him a wan smile. "What can I do for you, sir?" "Just doing the rounds, soldier." The Warmaster eased himself into the bedside chair, steepling his claws and sitting back. "Wanted to see how our resident Indestructable Asura was doing this fine, fine day." That made her chuckle painfully. She ran a hand over the bindings on her forearm, stroking it delicately. "Don't really know if I deserve to be called 'indestructable', sir. I feel like a furfly could take me out with a wingbeat. I really wr-wrecked myself up." The Warmaster's ears twitched at the slight stutter. He could almost see the raw nerve tension in her every word, every move, even though she seemed relaxed. Privately, he wondered how many times she might have come close to breaking down. In a gentle voice, he tried to adjust the conversation's course. "The Docs say you'll make a full recovery. For someone who got stomped by a Dragon, your injuries were surprisingly minor."

She nodded, not looking at him, and quirked a weak smile. "Torn muscle throughout my entire body. Hairline pressure fractures in my arms and legs, ribs. Bruised internal organs." Her hand itched at her bindings again, scratching a little more insistently. "Surface burns everywhere my armor collapsed, and first degree burns around all of my...implants." Sonnya paused. "I'm glad they didn't try removing the implant crystals, sir. I need them." The charr nodded. "From what the Docs told me, they took one look at them and threw their hands up in defeat. All they could do was heal your physical wounds as best they could around those things. Even then, they didn't know what to make of them." Sonnya chuckled. "No, no they wouldn't. It's kind of a -- a private thing, sir." She glanced over at him from under the head bandage. "They work with my armour. Make it stronger. But there's costs. I'm still working out the -- bugs." "So there's no chance you could somehow drop the designs off in R&D when you can walk, hmm?" He asked innocently. She just laughed. "No sir. These are my pet projects. It's all... it's all designed just for me. I wouldn't know how to make it for anyone else." She lied. "I'll have to make new armor though... They showed me what was left of my old set. It looks like it got run over by a tank." "Well that's a shame." The Warmaster pouted as best that a Charr could, which made her smile. "The forges will always be open to you, Sonnya."

"Thank you sir." She lay back in the bed, hand still itching at her forearm wrap. "If you don't mind...I think I'd like to get some rest." The charr stood up, reaching out to place a hand delicately on her bandaged shoulder. "Get well, soldier. You've got a fandom out there in the ranks, you know. Can't disappoint them, now can we?" She smiled back, but it was weak, fragile. Shaky. "R-right, sir. Can't disappoint." The Warmaster was no fool. He might be Charr, and mostly detached from emotions other than sarcasm, grumpiness, gallows wit, and generic anger, but he'd seen smiles like that before. He paused, the reciprocal smile sliding from his face. In a quiet, serious voice, he told her. "Soldier... Sonnya. I know how you're feeling. Been there a few times. But you aren't alone, you know. If you ever need to chat, or yell and scream, or just want to let go in some way, you know where my office is." His smirk came back. "I'm a Charr. We might not be typically good listeners, but I say we got four ears for a damned reason!" Sonnya searched his eyes, unsure what to say, before nodding slowly. "Understood, sir. I might just take you up on that. Later, that is." "Good. Good." The Warmaster straightened up and headed for the door. "I look forward to hearing from you, soldier." He cast a glance over his shoulder at the bandaged Asura. "No matter what it is you need to get off your chest. Get some sleep. That's an order."

She waited until the door closed before she carefully lay back on the bed. She took a deep, ragged breath, and bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. Now the Warmaster was looking at me with pity, she thought.

Sonnya wanted to stand out more, to define herself against the backdrop of her little sisters. But this...this was the worst way possible. Even if the Warmaster had brushed over the fact she'd basically called down a Shatterer's wrath directly on herself and anyone around her, she knew that once she left the clinic, all eyes would be on her. Not in the way she wanted. Thinking of her sisters just brought that well of despair up again. She was the older sister, but they were the ones achieving. Their successes were becoming more well-known, and any accomplishment she made was overshadowed. They even had teams of their own! Miriya was probably the best off of all of them. A loyal krewe of assorted Pact soldiers from all three guild factions, one of them apparently her new love interest! What were the chances of that! He was human too, which was a shocker; Sonnya had never known her middle sister to be...adventurous as that. Reckless, yes, but not really a rule-breaker.

Little Tenna... oh how Sonnya's heart twisted in pain. Her little sister, feeling abandoned in Rata Sum, had experimented on herself and turned herself into...what? A ghoul? A cannibal? A full blooded carnivore? Something to whisper about when peoples' backs were turned. But she had somehow fallen in with an entire crew of people. Somehow in spite of that staggeringly horrible flaw, or maybe because of it, she had found kinship and friendship. The words Tenna had used on her in their last meeting were like a knife; she truly believed Miriya and Sonnya had abandoned her for their own careers. At their last encounter, Tenna had implied she knew something about Sonnya's secrets. But which one? That bothered her deeply.

Finally, she compared all of that to herself. A mediocre career as a Vigil soldier, some minor kudos in shield development...and then this latest incident. Was there anything there?

They all have something. They made something of themselves. They keep moving UPWARD. So what...what am I doing?... Sonnya asked herself bleakly.

She had no close friends. She had no real allies beyond fellow soldiers. Though she kept upgrading her armor, she wasn't the first to do that; she'd seen the experimental Exo-suits coming out of the Dynamics college, and she'd witnessed stolen Inquest powersuits that might have equalled or surpassed her own technology. Only her layered shields throughout her gear were a new concept, and that might not last much longer.

Her only Ace-in-the-Hole was the Aethermotive implants -- for which she could not even take public credit for, as they were practically outlawed. She never stood out far enough, academically, to interest anyone intellectually, and she knew (or at least, she personally believed) she was very plain to look at. No molten locks like Miriya, or dark wine ponytails and golden eyes like Tenna. She hadn't been blessed by Death, like Miriya. Nor did she have the insane creativity of Tenna.

It wasn't enough. She...wasn't enough. Not good enough. Strong enough. Smart enough. Capable enough... There was one other 'enough', but she couldn't bring herself to admit it, even to herself.

Unconsciously, her hand scratching at her arm's bindings tightened, before sliding up to her shoulder, under the hospital gown. There, they dug nails into unbandaged flesh. They kept tightening, digging, until very slowly, she felt her nails become wet. It hurt, and she hissed quietly, the need to cry fading with the introduction of physical pain. But the pain passed, and her hand relaxed. She sighed heavily, pulling her hand back to stare sadly at the bloody nails. From under her pillow she tugged out a segment of already stained rag from an earlier bandage change. She'd hidden it on impulse when her nurse had turned away to get a fresh poultice prepared. With the rag and some water from the drinking glass by her bedside, she wiped her hand clean, before hiding the rag again. She might need it again... before she left the bed. As an afterthought, she summoned a meager trickle of Guardian magical energy and let it travel through the now-clean, offending hand to the new wounds she'd self-inflicted. She couldn't use much magic; she'd drained everything, and it would take even longer to recover. Even a little bit of surface healing left her a little lightheaded.

"....Embrace the Light..." She intoned quietly, as the blood stipples faded away and the pain completely disappeared, erased by her magic as the wounds sealed up. If she had done that to her bandaged arm, the doctors would have wondered where the fresh blood staining the bandage had come from. This way, they wouldn't even know.

She wasn't strong enough. But she would be. Wouldn't she? The words haunted her.

Not Strong Enough. ------------------------ (Author’s note: there’s a lot in this story I’d like to talk about, but... In any case, for the section in Lowland Burns, I’d suggest listening to MHA/BNHA’s “You Say Run” on repeat. Or any song that gets your blood pumping and is suitably dramatic and awesome. I had it on repeat while I wrote. I wasn’t sure if I should post this one, despite the decently good reception it’s received elsewhere. For one, I wasn’t sure what tags to use, so I’ve put the ones I could think of. If there’s one I should put up, let me know and I’ll add it to the pile. I can answer some questions if anyone has them, about Sonnya. No doubt this story raises a hell of a lot of them. This story is one of her Weight of the World moments, in more ways than one. I hope people enjoy it and....well... like her, really. She’s one of my favorite characters to main as in-game, and the most difficult to write for.)

[aion-rsa]

HBO Max New Releases: September 2021

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The summer movie season may be winding down, but HBO Max is keeping the movie ball rolling in September 2021. HBO Max’s list of new releases this month is heavy on the film side of things – both in library and original offerings.

Two Warner Bros. films of note arrive this month. The James Wan-directed horror tale Malignant premieres on Sept. 10 and is followed by Clint Eastwood’s Cry Macho on Sept. 17. The next installment in Adventure Time: Distant Lands (which is kind of like a film series!) is titled Wizard City and opens the month on Sept. 2

Of course, it wouldn’t be a new month of HBO Max releases without some interesting evergreen Warner movie titles. Sept. 1 finds all eight Harry Potter movies returning to WarnerMedia’s streaming service. They will be accompanied by The Goonies, The Evil Dead, Cloverfield, and more. Later on in the month, Mortal Kombat (Sept. 9), Mad Max: Fury Road (Sept. 9), and Promising Young Woman (Sept. 25) all come back to the streaming world.

On the TV side of things, HBO Max is bringing back DC’s strangest heroes for season 3 of Doom Patrol on Sept. 23. And for those who need their true crime fix, The Way Down should fit the bill. This docuseries about a weight loss cult is timely for reasons you’ll definitely want to Google.

HBO Max New Releases – September 2021

September 1 A Hijacking, 2013 (HBO) The Animal, 2001 (HBO) Army Of Darkness, 1993 (HBO) The Benchwarmers, 2006 (HBO) Bodas de Oro (aka The Anniversary), 2019 (HBO) The Cell 2, 2009 (HBO) Cloverfield, 2008 (HBO) Dead Again, 1991 (HBO) Deck the Halls, 2006 (HBO) Detour, 2017 (HBO) Drinking Buddies, 2013 (HBO) Epic Movie, 2007 (Extended Version) (HBO) Event Horizon, 1997 (HBO) The Evil Dead, 1983 (HBO) Evil Dead 2, 1987 (HBO) Flawless, 2008 (HBO) The Forgotten, 2004 (HBO) Fun Size, 2012 (HBO) The Gallows, 2015 (HBO) The Good German, 2006 (HBO) The Good Heart, 2010 (HBO) The Goonies, 1985 Green Lantern 2011 Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, 2002 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1, 2010 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, 2011 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2005 Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, 2009 Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, 2007 Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, 2004 Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, 2001 Impostor, 2002 (Director’s Cut) (HBO) Inheritance, 2020 (HBO) In the Heart of the Sea, 2015 (HBO) Kany Garcia: Soy Yo En Vivo, 2019 (HBO) King Kong, 2005 (Extended Version) HBO) Lady in the Water, 2006 (HBO) Meet Me in St. Louis, 1944 Mr. Nobody, 2013 (Extended Version) (HBO) My Golden Days, 2016 (HBO) Nanny McPhee, 2006 (HBO) Oblivion, 2013 (HBO) On the Town, 1949 Ouija: Origin of Evil, 2016 (HBO) Paulie, 1998 (HBO) The Poet Of Havana, 2015 (HBO) Prime, 2005 (HBO) Prince Avalanche, 2013 (HBO) Reik En Vivo Desde El Auditorio Nacional, 2015 (HBO) Rent, 2005 (HBO) Romeo Santos The King Stays King: Live At Madison Square Garden, 2012 (HBO) Santana – Corazon: Live From Mexico, Live It To Believe It, 2014 (HBO) Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, 2012 (HBO) Severance, 2007 (HBO) Showdown In Little Tokyo, 1991 (HBO) The Song Remains the Same, 1976 Taken 2, 2012 (Extended Version) (HBO) Thalia Viva Tour En Vivo, 2014 (HBO) That’s Entertainment!, 1974 That’s Entertainment! II, 1976 That’s Entertainment! III, 1994 Transformers, 2007 (HBO) Undisputed, 2002 (HBO) Vanilla Sky, 2001 (HBO) View from the Top, 2003 (HBO) What They Had, 2018 (HBO) What Women Want, 2000 (HBO) Yandel: Legacy – De Lider A Leyenda Tour, 2015 (HBO)

September 2 Adventure Time: Distant Lands – Wizard City, Max Original Special Premiere Sweet Life: Los Angeles, Max Original Season Finale

September 3 Amaraica, 2020 (HBO) At Last, 2020 Bittu, 2020 Coffee Shop Names, 2020 Liberty Kid, 2007

September 4 News of the World, 2020 (HBO)

September 7 Hard Knocks ’21: The Dallas Cowboys, Season Finale (HBO)

September 8 Nasciturus, 2021

September 9 Mad Max: Fury Road, 2015 Sweet Life: Los Angeles, Max Original Reunion Special Mortal Kombat, 2021 (HBO)

September 10 Elliott from Earth, Season 1 Malignant, Warner Bros. Film Premiere, 2021 (Available in 4K UHD, HDR10, Dolby Vision)

September 11 Ben 10, Season 4C NYC Epicenters 9/11→2021½, Documentary Series Finale (HBO) Walker, Season 1

September 12 Scenes from a Marriage, Limited Series Premiere (HBO)

September 13 Care Bears: Unlock the Magic I’m Sorry Little Ellen, Max Original Series Premiere

September 15 A La Calle, 2020 The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, 1966

September 16 Tig n’ Seek, Max Original Season 3 Premiere

September 17 Apple & Onion, Season 2B Cry Macho, Warner Bros. Film Premiere (Available in 4K UHD, HDR10, Dolby Vision) El Cuartito, 2021 (HBO) Superman & Lois, Season 1

September 18 The People v. The Klan

September 20 Hard, Season 3 Finale (HBO) Total Dramarama

September 21 Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel (HBO)

September 23 Ahir Shah: Dots, Max Original Special Premiere Doom Patrol, Max Original Season 3 Premiere The Other Two, Max Original Season 2 Finale

September 25 Promising Young Woman, 2020 (HBO)

September 26 Nuclear Family, Documentary Series Premiere (HBO)

September 27 Huesped Americano (aka The American Guest), Series Premiere (HBO) Little Sky, 2021 Asian Pacific American Visionaries Short (HBO) Neh, 2021 Asian Pacific American Visionaries Short (HBO) Unmothered, 2021 Asian Pacific American Visionaries Short (HBO)

September 29 Entre Hombres (aka Amongst Men), Series Premiere (HBO)

September 30 The Not-Too-Late Show with Elmo, Max Original Season 2 Premiere Ten-Year-Old Tom, Max Original Series Premiere Those Who Wish Me Dead, 2021 (HBO) (Available in 4K UHD, HDR10, Dolby Vision) The Way Down, Max Original Series Premiere Yabba-Dabba Dinosaurs, Max Original Series Premiere

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Leaving HBO Max – September 2021  

September 5 Lost Resort, 2020 The Suicide Squad, 2021

September 12 CHIPS, 2017 (HBO)

September 19 Ford V. Ferrari, 2019 (HBO) Norm Of The North: King Sized Adventure, 2019 Reminiscence, 2021

September 20 Doctor Sleep, 2020 (Director’s Cut) (HBO)

September 24 King Arthur: Legend Of The Sword, 2017 (HBO)

September 30 Abandon, 2002 (HBO) Abuela’s Luck, 2019 (HBO) Addicted to Love, 1997 American History X, 1998 The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, 1974 (HBO) Being Julia, 2004 The Butcher’s Wife, 1991 (HBO) Cabaret , 1972 Camelot, 1967 City of Angels, 1998 The Craft, 1996 Dark Shadows, 2012 (HBO) Deerskin, 2020 (HBO) Demolition Man, 1993 The Devil’s Advocate, 1997 Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, 2002 Drumline, 2002 (Extended Version) (HBO) Dumb & Dumber, 1994 The Electric Horseman, 1979 (HBO) Endings, Beginnings, 2019 (HBO) Escape from New York, 1981 Eye for an Eye, 1996 (HBO) Fierce People, 2007 (HBO) Final Analysis, 1992 (HBO) The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas, 2000 (HBO) The Flintstones, 1994 (HBO) Fracture, 2007 From Dusk Till Dawn, 1996 Full Beat, 2018 (HBO) Ghosts of Mississippi, 1996 Gold Diggers of 1933, 1933 Gold Diggers of 1935, 1955 The Graduate, 1967 Hachi: A Dog’s Tale, 2009 Happy-Go-Lucky, 2008 (HBO) Hardball, 2001 (HBO) Haywire, 2012 (HBO) Honeymoon in Vegas, 1992 House Arrest, 2012 (HBO) House on Haunted Hill, 1999 In & Out, 1997 (HBO) Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday, 1993 (HBO) Jason X, 2002 Jerry Maguire, 1996 JFK, 1991 Joe Versus the Volcano, 1990 Kicking & Screaming, 2005 (HBO) Klute, 1971 Labyrinth, 1986 Las Herederas (aka The Heiresses), 2019 (HBO) Last Action Hero, 1993 Leatherface Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, 1990 (HBO) The Longest Yard, 1974 (HBO) The Man With The Iron Fists, 2012 (Unrated Version) (HBO) Marie Antoinette, 2006 Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, 1997 Midway, 2019 (HBO) Million Dollar Mermaid , 1952 Miss Firecracker, 1989 (HBO) Miss Sharon Jones!, 2015 Murder at 1600, 1997 Murder by Numbers, 2002 Must Love Dogs, 2005 My Bloody Valentine 3-D, 2009 (HBO) My Super Ex-Girlfriend, 2006 (HBO) Nights in Rodanthe, 2008 No Reservations, 2007 Not Another Teen Movie, 2001 Observe and Report, 2009 Ola de Crimenes (aka Crime Wave), 2018 (HBO) Once Upon a Time in Mexico, 2003 One Day, 2001 (HBO) Outbreak, 1995 Pleasantville, 1998 Point Break, 1991 (HBO) The Polar Express, 2004 Practical Magic, 1998 Primal Fear, 1996 (HBO) The Prince of Tides, 1991 Raw Deal, 1986 (HBO) The Return, 2006 (HBO) The Right Stuff, 1983 Rumor Has It…, 2005 Scary Movie, 2000 Scary Movie 2, 2001 Scary Movie 3, 2003 Scream, 1996 Scream 2, 1997 Scream 3, 2000 The Search for Santa Paws, 2010 (HBO) Short Circuit, 1986 Single White Female, 1992 Slackers, 2002 Snakes on a Plane, 2006 Soldier, 1998 The Sweetest Thing, 2002 Tango & Cash, 1989 Ted, 2012 (Unrated Version) (HBO) Tequila Sunrise, 1998 The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, 2006 (Extended Version) (HBO) The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 2003 The Time Machine, 1960 Tin Cup, 1996 Torch Song Trilogy, 1988 Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Witness Protection, 2012 The Upside of Anger, 2005 Victor/Victoria, 1982 The Warriors, 1979 (Director’s Cut) (HBO) The Watch, 2012 (HBO) Willard, 1971 (HBO) Wings, 2012

The post HBO Max New Releases: September 2021 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jw91ky

[gnomesagetion]

Missing Gears Chapter 4

Things always go wrong when something good happens. For example: The Thunderbirds were just starting up when Gordon Tracy was the only survivor of a holfoil crash. An engagement of a Tracy son and an ex FBI agent when someone is out to get International Rescue. But sometimes good things come from the bad things in our lives.

Read on: Fanfiction.Net AO3 Wattpad

Naomi sat on the doctor’s seat. Dr Megan Greenwood was checking her right arm out. “Well your arm is healing nicely,” She explained “A few more weeks and your arm will be almost good as new. But the swelling will have to come down if you wish to go back to a job,” “So I don’t have to wear a sling anymore?” “Well you haven’t been wearing one for a few weeks so why should you start bothering now?” Megan laughed “But I would like you to wear on for a few hours every day. It will help in the long run,” “Who told you?” “Scott did,” “That traitor,” “He told me because he was concerned,” “I know,” Naomi said, smiling “But I’m still going to get him back,” Megan laughed. “I’ll tell him to be on guard,” “I wouldn’t expect less,” Naomi told her friend “Also speaking of you and Scott. I was wondering if you would like to be my Maid of Honour at my wedding. It’s obvious that Virgil will pick Scott as his Best Man,” “But what about your other friends? You’ve surely known them longer than you have me,” “I’ve already talked to them,” Naomi answered “And they agree that if Scott is to be Virgil’s Best Man then you should be my Maid of Honour. They all feel like that it would be wrong to dance with a man whose eyes are obviously looking at another member of the wedding party,” “Well if that is the case – then yes, I’ll be your Maid of Honour,” Megan replied “But only if you wear your sling for at least three hours every day for at least two weeks,” Naomi sighed. “Fine,” “Well I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks for being a good patient,” “No problem Dr Greenwood. Thank you for being an amazing doctor,” Naomi replied, getting out of the chair. “Just doing my job,”

It was half past one that afternoon when Virgil came out of his room. He saw his fiancé sitting on the couch, her right arm in a sling and her laptop open. “Don’t come near me until you have had a few showers and a breath mint that doesn’t smell like mint,” Naomi said, not looking up from whatever she was doing. “You do realise that breath mints are meant to be mint flavoured,” Virgil said as he picked up a glass. He turned on the tap and filled the glass to halfway. “Well have a Mentos then,” Naomi replied “You know I hate the smell of mint,” “You’re the only person I know who doesn’t like mint,” Virgil said “It doesn’t matter what shape or form it is in you always seem to despise that,” “It was an unfortunate experience with a Tic Tac before I came to America,” Naomi explained “But seriously – go and take a shower and have a Mentos,” “Fine,” Virgil said “Just letting you know that Gordon was a lightweight just like you said he would be,” “But John’s still worse?” “Gordon at least made it through the first bottle,” “Also – wake him up. He’s got to get over it one way or another,” Virgil rolled his eyes. Naomi laughed. “I love you Virg,” “Love you too Nomi,”

Cameron Muter watched the couple interact with each other. Facial Recognition had come back with a former FBI agent named Naomi Winchester and the third son of Jeff Tracy, Virgil. The papers had announced their engagement a few months prior. Why yes, the two adults would be eliminated sooner rather than later, it was not them who Cameron had come for. Rather he was there for the red haired Tracy. Gordon had slipped through his fingers once before. But not this time. This time, Cameron’s damage would be more fatal than just the occasional back pain. But how to do it was a tough question. Another mechanical failure? Or maybe a sniper shoot out. Cameron shook his head. No – This had to be done personally. He couldn’t let anyone else do it. Last time he did that, everyone but the person he wanted dead died. Cameron Muter was not going to make the same mistakes again.

He remembered the event like it was yesterday. When his own superiors had told him that one of the cadets that would be younger than the average cadet, S.O. Cameron Muter wasn’t sure. Since International Rescue, or the Thunderbirds as many people called them, had sprung up many younger men had applied to become part of WASP. Many of them just wanted to be heroes and many of them did not have skills required for the job. So the superiors gave him the file belonging to Cadet Gordon Tracy. Yes, there were more than a few listed disciplinary actions but there was also good reports. The good out weighted the bad and it seemed that the cadet was very committed to the job. Heck, Gordon Tracy went as far as finishing his final year of High School alongside the First Year training program. So Cameron accepted the fact. Just because Cadet Tracy was the son of a billionaire or younger than most of his squadron did not mean that he would be treated any different from the others.

Gordon Tracy knew how to pull his weight. If anything, the young red head was one of the most proficient of S.O. Cameron Muter’s squadron. When it was his turn on any duty, Cadet Tracy would the job done straight away. Any night or dawn watches he was assigned were done with a cup of coffee in his system. None of the others had the pleasure of a late night cup of coffee. They liked to leave getting out of bed until the very last minute – Gordon did not. But most importantly, the squadron liked him. If your spirits were down, Gordon would try to give you something to smile about. A little joke or a smile could go a long way in a place like this. But if some of the older men in the squad caught him in the middle of taking another biscuit from the biscuit box, Gordon just stood there, smiling. His eyes portrayed his personal life. I’ve done this before. I have three older brothers – you don’t scare me. It made the other men feel sorry for any of Gordon’s family members. When the first year come to a close, the others were sad to see the red head leave.

Normally the Hydrofoil training didn’t begin until you were in your third year, but something had happened in the Third Year training squadron which had forced the superiors to place the Second Year training squadron on the Hydrofoil. S.O. Cameron Muter had not expected to be teaching Gordon Tracy and the rest of his squadron for another two years. But Fate liked to play in mysterious ways. All cadets got turns at being navigator, engineers and pilots. Pretty soon everyone had found which job they liked best and the ship was doing fine. The squadron of fourteen men took turns in groups of seven. Half would focus of the theory side of things – how the hydrofoil worked, what to do in an emergency etc. – while the others would be out at sea with S.O. Cameron Muter training with the Hydrofoil. Gordon’s half of the consisted of himself and Billy Blacks as the pilots, Max Singer as the navigator, Aspen Bartlett in control of Sonar and Le Roy Carter, Jack Evans and Alex Smith on the other instruments. The seven men were the younger half of their squadron and were pretty close. But enclosed environments tended to bring up unwanted tension. There was the occasional dispute between Max and Aspen. Everyone knew that they had come from the same area. Everyone knew that there was a girl back home. Everyone knew that she was waiting for only one of them. And it annoyed the other. Most of the cadets had girls waiting for them. Le Roy had announced after their last weekend off that he and his long time sweetheart were planning to tie the knot. Billy and Jack also had long term relationships. Alex, Gordon and Max were the only single men on the ship. Alex had said that he hadn’t dated since his girlfriend had been killed in a freak avalanche when they were in High School. Gordon and his last girlfriend had broken up after graduation. It had been coming for a long time though. Gordon was just surprised it had taken them so long to do so. Looking back, Cameron Muter knew that if what had happened had not happened that these cadets would have made great husbands and fathers. They were already great men. The other half of the squadron was just as great. Most had already tied the knot – only two were left single.

It was towards the end of year that cadets on the Hydrofoil got to go out for more than just a few hours. Both halves had told their wives, girlfriends and family that they were going out to sea for a few days and would be uncontactable. They had said good bye and 12 hours later all fourteen men of the Second Year training squadron were aboard the hydrofoil for the three day course. The two halves would take turns in the control room and sleeping. Their supervising officer would often come into the sleeping quarters or control room to see how everyone was coping and working. Each shift was four hours long. If you had the 6am-10am shift you were lucky. It meant that, if you wanted, you could play card games or just talk with the others instead of getting some sleep. Your next shift would be the 2pm-6pm one and you could always sleep on the next four hour break. It’s just how it worked.

But the inner workings of the Hydrofoil itself were wrong. Someone had tampered with both the navigation box and the tail flap. For most of the sub’s journey the course would follow the regulated training run but 15 hours into the trip, disaster would come closer. The sub would veer off course and the navigator wouldn’t notice. As far as they were concerned, the sub was heading in the right direction. And even if they did discover that they were on the wrong course, it didn’t matter. A gear was missing from the tail flap. That gear – if removed gave the pilots 15 hours of control before their course became permeant. Cameron knew all of this. He was the one who came up the plan. He wasn’t the one for did the deed though. No, Cameron paid a very accomplished assassin to do it. He didn’t mind the fact that it was quite possible that he would not survive the crash. Cameron had faith in his master. He had faith that he would be rescued.

Would Cameron have said yes to being controlled by someone if he knew that this was the way his life would go? Maybe. S.O. Cameron Muter had always wanted to do this type of thing when he was kid. Being a saboteur of America’s enemies’ plans was the greatest thing in young Cameron’s mind. It still was. But as he grew older, his focus changed from being a saboteur or a secret agent like James Bond to being in command of a submarine. After finishing his degree in mechanics, Cameron Muter had signed up for WASP – the World Aquanaut Security Patrol. It was as strict and demanding as the Army, Air Force and Navy but had a wider berth of jurisdiction. While WASP was primarily American, many other countries such as Australia, New Zealand, England and France had a say in what WASP did. Typhoon in the Pacific? New Zealand arranged a small squadron to help with cleaning up in the ocean. More research into reefs? Australia sent a four maned sub to the Great Barrier Reef to collect it. The American Army, Air Force and Navy didn’t have that capability. The other countries had their own armies to use. The American counterparts weren’t needed when someone else was already there. Cameron Muter was happy that he had picked WASP over the Navy. Once he finished his own training, he was sent on a few missions before returning to train cadets. No one controlled him. He was just S.O. Cameron Muter. And it remained that way for years until the Thunderbirds showed up. It annoyed Cameron. Out of the blue these men in blue and masks appeared with their machines. They got jobs that could have easily been done by the Navy. Or WASP. Or the Army. Or the Air Force. What gave them the right? They had no ties to any country. They certainly did not work well with the military. They were always masked. Who could trust these men when they could not see their faces? When they did not know where their loyalties lay? It was absurd. The only good thing about International Rescue and Thunderbirds was the fact that it brought in more people into the different branches of military. And so Cameron suffered in silence for six months. His fellow rank would talk about the latest rescue over early morning coffee. While yes, they had their own doubts about International Rescue, they all seemed to believe that they were there for the good of the world. And it was just not on.

In came in a dream. Someone offered Cameron a way to stop the IR. Be a part of the future. Should he have asked for details? Yes, but Cameron did not care. He just wanted the Thunderbirds gone. And with one simple word, Cameron was taken over by The Voice. Cameron did not know the name of The Voice but he trusted him. He trusted The Voice to bring down International Rescue. All he hoped was the chance to do some of his own bringing down. Within months he got his opportunity. The Voice had told him who was under the masks. Cameron should have guessed sooner. The Tracy family all had various experiences which would make the operation so effective. The oldest son, Scott, had been in the Air Force. Cameron had heard whispers of the amazing feats he had accomplished in Military meetings. The perfect candidate for the pilot of Thunderbird One. Both Jeff Tracy and his second son, John, were astronauts. Thunderbird Five was the space station. Undoubtedly manned by John who had spent three years in space. To get up there you would need a rocket. Or Thunderbird Three to be precise. The third son, Virgil, had spent three years at the Denver School of Advance Technology. He probably designed half the equipment used. The Tracy family also had motive. Lucille Tracy, wife to Jeff and mother of five, had died in an avalanche. With proper equipment, she could have survived. So when the file of Gordon Tracy was given to him, Cameron was hopeful. Maybe his master would allow him to take care of the fourth son. Maybe this could be the first step in tearing down what the Tracy’s had built.

The Voice had let him. He arranged the assassin. He made the plan. He got to organise when Gordon Tracy’s team was in the Control Room to have the best effect. Yes, he was destroying 13 other innocent lives in the process but it was going to be worth it. When it finally did happen the only person to get out of the crash was Gordon Tracy. Everyone else died. At least, that’s what was told on every new station across the world. Everyone thought that the supervising officer, Cameron Muter, was dead. He was not. His faith in his master was well placed. The Voice had come through. The Voice was angry at first. Who wouldn’t be? Cameron had failed to kill the one person he needed to. But soon, The Voice gave him another assignment. Who wouldn’t love keeping tabs on the Tracy family rumours and Tracy Enterprises? So that was where Cameron stayed. Keeping an ear to the floor and his eyes to the sky.

[iwatasachou]

Games with participation of Satoru Iwata.

Star Battle for Commodore Vic-20 - Creator  Super Billiards for MSX - Creator  Rollerball for Nintendo Entertainment System - Producer  Hole in One Professional for NES - Programmer Air Fortress for NES - Producer, technical adviser. Othello for NES - Producer  Eggerland: Meikyuu no Fukkatsu for NES - Producer Uchûkeibitai SDF for NES -Technical advisor New Ghostbusters II for NES - Technical supervisor NES Open Tournament Golf for NES - Main programmer Iwata's first Nintendo game. NCAA Basketball for Super Nintendo Entertainment System - Additional programming  Kirby's Adventure for NES - Producer Alcahest for SNES - Executive producer Game published by Square. Kirby's Dream Course for SNES - Producer Earthbound for SNES - Programming director, programmer, co-producer Adventures of Lolo for Game Boy - Executive producer Kirby's Dream Land 2 for Game Boy - Producer Pokémon Red and Blue for Game Boy - Special thanks (U.S. version) Kirby Super Star for SNES - Producer Kirby's Dream Land 3 for SNES - Chief producer Kirby's Star Stacker for Game Boy - Chief producer Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 64 - Producer Pokémon Stadium for Nintendo 64 - Producer Coded the battle program in a week[2] Pokémon Snap for Nintendo 64 - Producer Pokémon Gold and Silver for Game Boy - Special thanks Pokémon Stadium 2 for Nintendo 64 - Producer Pokémon Puzzle League for Nintendo 64 - Special thanks Pokémon Crystal for Game Boy Color - Producer Kirby Tilt 'n' Tumble' for Game Boy Color - Special thanks Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards for Nintendo 64 - Supervisor Super Smash Bros. Melee for GameCube - Special thanks Machop at Work for e-Reader - Executive producer  Kingler's Day for e-Reader - Executive producer Hamtaro: Ham-Hams Unite! for Game Boy Color - Executive producer  Animal Crossing for GameCube - Executive producer Yoshi's Island: Super Mario Advance 3 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Super Mario Sunshine for GameCube - Executive producer Star Fox Adventures for GameCube - Executive producer Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Metroid Prime for GameCube - Executive producer Metroid Fusion for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Mario Party 4 for GameCube - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker for GameCube - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past & Four Swords for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Ice Climber-e for e-Reader - Executive producer Game & Watch Gallery 4 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem for GameCube - Executive producer Doshin the Giant for GameCube - Executive producer Balloon Fight-e for e-Reader  -Executive producer Wario World for GameCube - Executive producer WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$! for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Party Game$! for GameCube - Executive producer Super Mario Advance 4: Super Mario Bros. 3 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Pokémon Colosseum for GameCube - Executive producer Pokémon Channel for GameCube - Executive producer Pokémon Box: Ruby & Sapphire for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Party-e for e-Reader - Executive producer Mario Party 5 for GameCube - Executive producer Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Mario Kart: Double Dash‼ for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Golf: Toadstool Tour for GameCube - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: Collector's Edition for GameCube - Executive producer Kirby Air Ride for GameCube for Executive producer Hamtaro: Rainbow Rescue for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer GiFTPiA for GameCube - Executive producer F-Zero GX for GameCube - Executive producer F-Zero: GP Legend for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Donkey Kong Country for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Densetsu no Starfy 2 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Advance Wars 2: Black Hole Rising for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer 1080° Avalanche for GameCube - Executive producer Yoshi Topsy-Turvy for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer WarioWare Touched! for Nintendo DS - Executive producer WarioWare Twisted! for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Super Mario 64 DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Ridge Racer DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Polarium for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pokémon FireRed and LeafGreen for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Pokémon Emerald for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Pokémon Dash for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pikmin 2 for GameCube - Executive producer Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door for GameCube - Executive producer Metroid: Zero Mission for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Metroid Prime 2: Echoes for GameCube - Executive producer Mario vs. Donkey Kong for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Mario Power Tennis for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Pinball Land for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Mario Party 6 for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Golf: Advance Tour for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures for GameCube - Executive producer Kirby & the Amazing Mirror for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Donkey Kong: Jungle Beat for GameCube - Executive producer Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy's Kong Quest for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Densetsu no Starfy 3 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Daigasso! Band Brothers for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Custom Robo for GameCube - Executive producer Yoshi Touch & Go for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Trace Memory for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Super Princess Peach for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Super Mario Strikers for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Kart DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time' for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario Party 7 for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Party Advance for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Mario Superstar Baseball for GameCube - Executive producer Mario Tennis: Power Tour for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Metroid Prime Pinball for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Nintendogs for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Osu! Tatakae! Ouendan for Nintendo DS Executive producer Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Red Rescue Team for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Pokémon Trozei! for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness for GameCube - Executive producer Polarium for Advance Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Star Fox Assault for GameCube - Executive producer Advance Wars: Dual Strike for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Animal Crossing: Wild World for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Battalion Wars for GameCube - Executive producer Big Brain Academy for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Brain Age 2: More Training in Minutes a Day for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Brain Age: Train Your Brain in Minutes a Day! for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Chibi-Robo!: Plug Into Adventure! for GameCube - Executive producer Dance Dance Revolution: Mario Mix for GameCube - Executive producer DK: King of Swing for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Donkey Kong Country 3: Dixie Kong's Double Trouble! for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Drill Dozer for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Dr. Mario & Puzzle League for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Electroplankton for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance for GameCube - Executive producer Geist for GameCube - Executive producer Jump Super Stars for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Kirby Canvas Curse for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Baten Kaitos Origins for GameCube - Executive producer bit Generations: Boundish for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer bit Generations: Coloris for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer bit Generations: Dialhex for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Custom Robo Arena for Nintendo DS - Executive producer bit Generations: Digidrive for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer bit Generations: Dotstream for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Elite Beat Agents for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Excite Truck for Wii - Executive producer Freshly-Picked Tingle Rosy Rupeeland for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Jump Ultimate Stars for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Kirby: Squeak Squad for Nintendo DS - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for GameCube, Wii - Executive producer Magical Starsign for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Magnetica for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario vs. Donkey Kong 2: March of the Minis for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Metroid Prime Hunters for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mother 3 for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer New Super Mario Bros. for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Odama for GameCube - Executive producer bit Generations: Orbital for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Pokémon Diamond and Pearl for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pokémon Ranger for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Rhythm Tengoku for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer bit Generations: Soundvoyager for Game Boy Advance - Executive producer Star Fox Command for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Tetris DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer WarioWare: Smooth Moves for Wii - Executive producer Wii Play for Wii - Executive producer Wii Sports for Wii - Executive producer Yoshi's Island DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Big Brain Academy: Wii Degree for Wii - Executive producer Battalion Wars 2 for Wii - Executive producer Chibi-Robo!: Park Patrol for Nintendo DS - Executive producer DK: Jungle Climber for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Endless Ocean for Wii - Executive producer Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn for Wii - Executive producer Flash Focus: Vision Training in Minutes a Day for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Hotel Dusk: Room 215 for Nintendo DS - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario Party 8 for Wii - Executive producer Mario Party DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Games for Wii, Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario Strikers Charged for Wii - Executive producer Metroid Prime 3: Corruption for Wii - Executive producer My Word Coach for Nintendo DS - Thanks Picross DS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Planet Puzzle League for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Super Mario Galaxy for Wii - Executive producer Super Paper Mario for Wii - Executive producer Wario: Master of Disguise for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Wii Fit for Wii - Executive producer Advance Wars: Days of Ruin for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Animal Crossing: City Folk for Wii - Executive producer CrossworDS for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Kirby Super Star Ultra for Nintendo DS - Executive producer The Legendary Starfy for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Major League Baseball 2K8: Fantasy All-Stars for Nintendo DS - Special thanks Mario Kart Wii for Wii - Executive producer Mario Super Sluggers for Wii - Executive producer Mystery Case Files: MillionHeir for Nintendo DS - Executive producer New Play Control! Pikmin for Wii - Executive producer Pokémon Platinum for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pokémon Ranger: Shadows of Almia for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Soma Bringer for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Super Smash Bros. Brawl for Wii - Executive producer Wario Land: Shake It! for Wii - Executive producer Another Code: R - A Journey Into Lost Memories for Wii - Executive producer The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Mario vs. Donkey Kong: Minis March Again! for DSiWare - Executive producer New Super Mario Bros. Wii for Wii - Executive producer Paper Airplane Chase for DSiWare - Executive producer 3D Picross for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Pokémon HeartGold and SoulSilver for Nintendo DS - Executive producer Punch-Out!! for Wii - Executive producer Wii Sports Resort for Wii - Executive producer Endless Ocean: Blue World for Wii - Executive producer Sin & Punishment: Star Successor for Wii - Executive producer Super Mario Galaxy 2 for Wii - Executive producer Art Style: Light Trax for WiiWare - Executive Producer X-Scape for DSiWare - Executive Producer Line Attack Heroes for WiiWare  - Executive Producer

Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon for Nintendo DS - Executive Producer Fire Emblem: Shin Monshō no Nazo ~Hikari to Kage no Eiyū~ for Nintendo DS - Executive Producer Metroid: Other M for Wii - Executive Producer Kirby's Epic Yarn for Wii - Executive Producer Art Academy for Nintendo DS - Executive Producer Mario vs. Donkey Kong: Mini-Land Mayhem! for Nintendo DS - Executive Producer Donkey Kong Country Returns for Wii - Executive Producer Fluidity for WiiWare - Executive Producer Mario Sports Mix for Wii - Executive Producer Pilotwings Resort for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Nintendogs + Cats for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Steel Diver for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Pokedex 3D for eShop - Executive Producer Wii Play: Motion for Wii - Executive Producer The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Star Fox 64 3D for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Anniversary Edition for DSiWare - Executive Producer Flower and Animal 3D Encyclopedia for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Kirby's Return to Dream Land for Wii - Executive Producer Pokemon Rumble Blast for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Freakyforms: Your Creations, Alive! for eShop - Executive Producer Super Mario 3D Land for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Super Fossil Fighters for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Mario & Sonic at the London 2012 Olympic Games for Wii /Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword for Wii - Executive Producer Mario Kart 7 for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Pushmo for eShop - Executive Producer Kiki Trick for Wii - Executive Producer Sakura Samurai: Art of the Sword for eShop - Executive Producer Rhythm Heaven Fever for Wii - Executive Producer Dillon's Rolling Western for eShop - Executive Producer Mario Party 9 for Wii - Executive Producer Kid Icarus: Uprising for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Xenoblade Chronicles for Wii - Executive Producer Pandora's Tower for Wii - Executive Producer Spirit Camera: The Cursed Memoir for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Mario Tennis Open for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Fatal Frame 2: Deep Crimson Butterflies for Wii - Executive Producer Culdcept for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Pocket Football League Calciobit for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Pokedex 3D Pro for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer New Super Mario Bros. 2 for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer The Last Story for Wii - Executive Producer Kirby's Dream Collection for Wii - Executive Producer Art Academy: Lessons for Everyone! for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Crosswords Plus for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Pokemon: Black 2 and White 2 for Nintendo DS - Executive Producer Style Savvy: Trendsetters for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Freakyforms Deluxe: Your Creations, Alive! for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Paper Mario: Sticker Star for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Nintendo Land for Wii U - Executive Producer New Super Mario Bros. U for Wii U - Executive Producer SiNG Party Wii U - Executive Producer Crashmo for eShop - Executive Producer Tokyo Crash Mobs for eShop - Executive Producer Fire Emblem: Awakening for Nintendo 3DS - Executive Producer Xenoblade Chronicles X for Wii U - Executive Producer

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

Tag List

// Don’t mind this unless you need guidance, I’m just working towards being a better and more organized roleplayer by trying to actually properly tag things and develop tags for content, if i can get into the habit of tagging most of my reblogs lol. when it comes to characters or content i really like or want seen like meme prompts, i will most definitely tag. But others that are just mild reblogs, i may not take the time.

Tags Thus Far For Meme Prompts - #onewinged meme For Cloud content - #my beautiful warrior ~ Cloud For Sephiroth content - #onewinged tragedy ~ Sephiroth For Kadaj content - #silvershade-of-rage ~ Kadaj For Vincent content - #CrimsonWings ~ Vincent For Reno content - #number one red bastard ~ Reno For Tifa content - #kiss with a fist ~ Tifa For Aerith content - #goddess among men ~Aerith For Red XIII/Nanaki content - #flame of the wild - Nanaki For Rufus Shinra content - #shining gold shadow ~ Rufus For Rude content - #number one shade bastard ~ Rude For Tseng content - #the shadows hand ~ Tseng For General Turks content - #the shadow squad ~ Turks For Yuffie content - #sneaky shiny ball collector ~ Yuffie For Cid content - #redneck sonuva bitch ~ Cid For Cait Sith/Reeve - #the heavy hearted puppeteer ~ Reeve For General Avalanche content - #new dawn squad ~ Avalanche For Zack content - #angel among devils ~ Zack For Genesis content - #onewinged loveless ~ Genesis For Angeal content - #onewinged hero ~ Angeal For Jenova content - #Sephiroths lullaby ~ Jenova For Cetra content - #gift of life ~ Cetra For Hojo content - #greasy rat bastard ~ Hojo For Lucrecia content - #a crystal tear ~ Lucrecia For Deepground content - #the beasts below ~ Deepground For Angst content - #give me despair ~ angst For Fluff content - #chocobo fluff ~ Fluff For Headcanon content - #archives of the mind ~ Headcanon For Aerti content - #I found you ~ Aerti For Sefikura content - #hold me like I never did anything to hurt you ~ Sefikura For Zakkura content - #I would walk five hundred miles ~ Zakkura  For Cloti content - #I promise you ~ Cloti For Clerith content - #just in time ~ Clerith For Rando Ship content - #too good to be true ~ misc 7 ship

...more to come...

[mosstheboar]

Field Journal #1 The Army of the Borrows [Apocrypha]

Field Journal 1 By Graduate of the Imperial Battle College Legionaire Una Senyan 3E 414 4th of Last Seed This is my first campaign journal. Clearly it will not be as educational as the field journals of Legate Blackwell in her expeditions to Elsweyr, but I hope that by writing down my experiences I can better retain the lessons life teaches. I have been transferred to a Breton force out of Wayrest as part of the Empire's Foreign Legion Exchange of Tactics. As fourth out of my class at the Imperial Battle College I have the honour of Imperial Advisor of Logistics attached to Lord Odvan Yoemford's Army of the Burrows. Honestly if the name is anything to go by I have a lot to learn about the Bretons. But my first assignment is a hefty one. The Army of the Burrows (honestly the name makes me giggle every time) is on a mission, according to Yoemford, to cull some of the 'pigs' (orcs) who have been straying 'too far from their pen'. The lectors at the Battle College impressed upon me the strength and savagery native to the orcs. But with the Army of the Burrows (Stendarr save that name) being 200 strong, 220 with auxiliary personell, I feel that we have little to worry about. We're going to push into the mountains, about a week over the border. I took the advice of one of the vets and bought a potion to keep me warm. Hopefully I won't need it. The alchemist that sold it to me said I reminded him of his niece and gave me the recipe to make more. The old coot was so charming I bought a mortar and pestle from him. As Imperial Advisor of Logistics (I wonder if I can get that sewn onto my uniform?) I figure it is my duty to research new materiel. And it might be fun, who knows? --------------- 10th of Last Seed We're two days out at this point. It's raining. It's cold. Not very fun. But I'm still excited, who knows what we could find? I've made a point of checking in on all the soldiers. Some of the other officers, Elona in particular, say that it's a waste of highborn's time to 'talk with the rabble' but what do these Bretons know? Chief Wizard Elona (why can't the provinces use the legions method of ranking? I think it's similar to a Battlemage?) would rather talk to an atronach than a soldier. I'm sure once we get into the mountains they'll see that spells are no replacement for troops, else why have the soldiers in the first place? Bretons place too much faith in spells and enchantments and all this daedra business gives me the jeebies. I understand that the atronachs are excellent frontline troops but surely mages could help in other ways. We have no restoration mage and fear of frostbite makes me glad I bought the recipe to make the potion again. I'll keep an eye out snowberries and purple flowers. If I can make some more I'm certain to win over the soldiers. --------------- 13th of Last Seed The scouts found a few hunting blinds on the upper slopes. They haven't seen any orcs so far but the company is on high alert. On Yoemfords order we knocked down the blinds. An afternoon wasted. Even with half the company hacking at the logs. Elona ended up summoning a flame atronach and incinerating the wood. The soldiers took to the inferno with a gusto, and even I admitted it was nice to be warm for a night but I'd rather be a little chilly and safe than warm and announced. I told Yoemford that this would only give away our position but the young lord deferred to his fellow Breton's opinion that the smoke would scare them. If the orcs in these mountains are anything like the Legion recruits from Orsinium then scared is probably not going to be their reaction. It seems the Breton's war academies teach little besides the benefits of nepotism. But far be it from me to criticise the all knowing battlemages. I just wish Lord Yoemford would listen to my advice. --------------- 16th of Last Seed We heard horns this morning. We left the smoking blinds two days behind us. When I turned on my horse and looked down towards the border I could still see the smoke rising. One of the vets in the company, Thadd, tells me that the orcs of Wrothgar are 'a different breed than civilised orcs'. I don't know if he means they are different like the varied types of Khajiiti or if they are simply stronger from a tougher life in the mountains. I found some of those purple mountain flowers but I had to requisition some snowberries from the company chef, guy did not like that I was going to try and make a potion with his precious ingredients. Zenithar save me from these insufferable Bretons. The horns worry me. The orcs want us to know that our presence is noticed. Which is either a bluff to get us to back off or a promise. Orcs aren't known for bluffing. --------------- 25th of Last Seed The soldiers are warming up to me. I've been walking their campfires and I joined the scouts once on patrol. We've been in the mountains for almost two weeks now but we still haven't had any contact with the orcs besides the horns. Lord Yoemford and the others say that our company has them running from us. Thadd and the other vets don't agree. And I'm more inclinded to listen to Thadd. It's getting colder the deeper into the mountains we get, but my practice with the herbs is working. The scouts told me that the potions definitely work but they only last an hour. Maybe I should invest in one of those alembics the old coot mentioned? --------------- 28th of Last Seed We made contact. Sort of. Scouts came back saying they spotted a small camp of orc hunters in a ravine to the west. Lord Yoemford roused the whole camp and ordered us off immediately. I tried to get details from the scouts but when Elona 'suggested' to Lord Yoemford that I should stay with the camp guard he agreed immediately. Thadd and a few other vets are staying with me at the camp which is small comfort. I came here to heft my mace, not just tote my ledgers. I told him I thought it was suspicious that the orcs would camp out in the open when we saw how well hidden they make their blinds. Thadd agreed with me but what can I do? I'm just some legionairre on loan. The vets and I ourselves useful and tightened up the palisade of the camp. I found some blue flowers that I think might aid healing but I don't know what to mix them with. I've heard blisterwort is a common medicinal recipe but there's none of that this high up. Fancy that. I came here to become a captain and it looks like I might end up being an alchemist. --------------- 29th of Last Seed It was a trap. Yoemford rode into camp just before nightfall. Two squads lost. The orcs the scouts spotted drew the company deeper in the ravine. When they engaged the hunters arrows rained down from above and an avalanche sealed them in. I don't know for certain that the orcs triggered the snowfall but Yoemford mentioned hearing drums before the snow fell. Elona melted a path back out of the ravine but it was slow going. Most of the horses were killed by arrows and the company had to lock shields to make it out safely. I was most diplomatic when I reminded the battlemages that I suspected a trap but have been assigned defense detail while they 'plan a counter-attack'. I'll just keep making this temporary camp more permanent using my extensive Imperial Battle College training while they sit in the command tent and poke their wands at maps. On a brighter note Tufil the chef has warmed up to me and even gave me some rock warbler eggs to go with my flowers. Some healing potions wouldn't go astray. But all things considered the company made it out of the ambush lightly. I feel like the orcs are testing us. --------------- 30th of Last Seed The horns have started again. They haven't stopped since the night after the company was ambushed. The orcs are warring against our minds. It's difficult to sleep. The soldiers have physically recovered (those that were able) but morale is low. I've told Yoemford my concerns about staying here this long but the young lord is indecisive. At least until Elona opens her mouth. That mage is getting on my nerves. We've been caught in an ambush. We can either retreat with our noses bloodied or we can push on further. The only stupid choice is to do nothing which is exactly what that Breton thinks we should do. And if SHE thinks we should do that then the bumbling Lord will as well. I was told Lord Yoemford was one of the best knights Bretony had to offer, I thought I saw that when we marched out of Wayrest, but now I just look at him and think he's one of the best knights Bretony has to offer. So by day we fell trees and strengthen our palisades. We've dug a shallow ditch at the circumference but the frozen soil is stubborn. None of the officers were out there swinging a pickaxe. They just stay in the command tent and only come out for meals, wine, and to give vague orders to strengthen the camp. Elona HAS been walking with the scouts though, burning runes in the ground outside the camp. I don't know how effective runes will be. I'm certain that the orcs are watching. Certainly they are close enough to wind those horns from dusk till dawn. Exploring the Wrothgarian mountains is not the simple seek and destroy campaign I was hoping for. So far the only thing I've explored is alchemy and the noble bred duncity of the Bretons. Army of the Burrows. Stendarr spare my mortality from their idiocy. --------------- 31st of Last Seed The watch reported fires last night. The horns have been joined by drums. The orcs have surrounded the camp at all compass points. I would not normally credit it to orcs but after the ambush, I have begun to reconsider the tactical movements of the orcs. Our company has made nothing but mistakes since we set out from Wayrest. We came with too few. Two companies might have been enough, but one company, already bloodied and with damaged morale is not the force to challenge orcs in their territory. We burned the hunting blinds which gave them two days warning. We did not expect and ambush and the company troops were lead into the ravine. But the first mistake the company made was underestimating the orcs. These are their mountains, no matter the lines drawn on some Breton map. Divines preserve me from their folly. --------------- 1st Heartfire The soldiers are tense. I've taken to walking the perimeter. I don't want to sound too full of myself but I think the soldiers are calmed by my presence. Though that could be because the young Lord has finally worked up his nerve. Our plan is to push on tomorrow morning. After giving the enemy two whole days to prepare. Lector Vivianus would have such words. Honestly, I think it was the logistics report I left at the tent the last time I was refused entry. We have barely two weeks of food left, and that's only because we lost some troops and horses. Lucky us. I don't mind eating horse oats. Food is food. I'm looking forward to seeing those stuffy Bretons lower themselves to eating what the rank and file have to put up with. Very well. If we must go on the offensive at least we'll have left the orcs a nicely prepared camp to wait for us in should we need to retreat. Genius. --------------- 2nd Heartfire Two of Elona's runes woke most of the camp last night. Well, early this morning. I'm writing this as the last tents are being struck. I'm getting the most out of my basic alchemy lab before we set off. Thadd rigged me up a snug sack to carry my potions and ingredients. WIth the satchel and potions stuck through my belt I practically look like an alchemist already. Then again the shield and mace make my profession clear. I'll be getting some good exercise as my horse has been 'reassigned' to one of the mages. I'll bet it's Elona. Anyway, I should stop scribbling and get my equipment in order. Potions look about done too. --------------- 3rd Hearfire The push this morning was successful, after a fashion. The company formed up within the palisade and marched against a line of orcish skirmishers. Their arrows and javelins did nothing against our shields but maintaining our formation cost us the mobility to pursue them. We barely left the camp and had our noses tweaked for our efforts. We spent the whole day fast marching, chasing the skirmishers. The troops are out for blood. I don't think the officers could rein them in if they wanted too. Yet I still can't shake the feeling that we're being tricked again. We're holed up at the top of a hill, the orcs already know where we are so we might as well choose somewhere defensible. Our supply state is even more concerning. If we intend to stay in the mountains we're going to have to capture enemy materiel or do some hunting. I'm going to take that brat Yoemford aside and give him the opinion he is not hearing in that command tent. Wish me luck. --------------- 3rd Heartfire Dammit! That crab-brained [TEXT ILLEGIBLE DUE TOSEVERAL HOLES THROUGH THE TEXT] Why am I here if nothing I say is listened to? I mean, the rankers trust what I say but all the brass and blue-bloods do their best to avoid me and when I corner them I get yelled at for 'challenging my superiors' and 'reducing morale'. I'll bet those sheep-bladder brains have no concept of how their mistakes are effecting morale. We haven't slain a single orc and the troops have lost comrades, haven't had proper rest and sleep, lackluster leadership, and now we're on the verge of marching straight into hostile lands with our mistakes glued to our eyes, so close we can't see them. I'll have to take care where I keep this journal. I get the feeling that the officers might take more than a little offense at what I record. Well fuck 'em. If their mistakes don't get me killed I'm going to introduce this blunder of a campaign to the Imperial Battle College. --------------- https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/6f7b6a/apocrypha_field_journal_1_the_army_of_the_burrows/