#and is very frenzied and feral and attacking everything to burn off the energy

[secret-engima]

*yeets Byakuran reborn as Ravus, Yuni as Luna, Tsuna as Noctis, Hibari as Crowe* *runs like hell*

*chases after you with armiger because HOW DARE*

-Byakuran totally doesn’t panic when he is reborn. Not really, he ACTUALLY DOESN’T.

-Mostly because he doesn’t Remember until he’s four and Luna is born and he can FEEL her soul down to his bones and everything in him goes “Yuki” and suddenly he remembers.

-Byakuran wakes up a week later to a very worried mom and a royal staff that are convinced poor Byakuran is a very rare instance of a male who can use Oracle magic, just as a Seer variant (which, in this verse, has happened before, it’s the only way male Nox Fleuret get to use magic).

-Yuni Remembers the moment her eyes are developed enough to see Byakuran in proper detail and that’s when the little lightbulb comes on in Byakuran’s head. They have to see another reincarnation in order to Remember.

-Well. After Dear Tsunayoshi had fixed his head, Byakuran always did consider Yuni a little sister anyway. Nice to see some things carrying over.

-They wonder for a while if they are the only two, keep it to themselves and watch closely for any signs of anyone else Remembering. Mostly though, they live their new lives as Luna and Ravus. They like being Luna and Ravus, sure, it’s odd to be in a world without Flames, but the magic in their veins is remarkably like them, and whatever oddity usually keeps male Nox Fleuret from using magic doesn’t effect Ravus in the slightest (though he keeps that a secret too). Their mother is a wonderful woman and the servants are kind (if exasperated by the eldest child’s obsession with marshmallows and other candies and his tendency to prank). This is good new life to life, one without Mafia and cursed rings and Vindice.

-They learn of the Prophecy and- well- they’ve seen this kind of thing before. They know how this story is supposed to end.

-They start plotting instead.

...

-Crowe has always been ... off. Wrong. The other children at the Orphanage all know that, and so do the Matrons, but Crowe doesn’t care. She is feral and wild and FURIOUS at the world, a burning-eyed child who hates because something deep inside hurts, like something is tearing her soul apart from the loss of it and nothing will fix it, and the pain drives her into a constant frenzy of patrolling and biting and hitting. She keeps the Orphanage safe even though it isn’t home (it is not her Territory it is not right not right not right) and defends the Herbivores other children even though they don’t like her (aren't Pack never Pack where is her Pack where is HER SKY-).

-Galahd begins to burn and Crowe fights. She tears the units apart with the ferocity of pain that has been in her blood all her life and then limps away when the battle is done (not won, she is too WEAK like this). She meets Nyx and Libertus and Selena and at first she hates them too. Bites and snarls when they try to drag her away from the battlefield. But they do not leave, or recoil from her. They stay and they insist on staying and something in her chest eases ever so slightly (Territory, her Territory. Not her old Pack, but New Pack, and it helps just a bit). She dubs them Reckless Carnivore (Nyx), Fussy Omnivore (Libertus), and Baby Carnivore (Selena). Somehow they, unlike anyone else in her this life, knows that these titles are important and special. Not insults or insanity. She promises to protect them always.

-Then Galahd falls, too fast and hard to save and they run for the boats rather than fight and Crowe SCREAMS as she tears apart the soulless metal husks that pretend to be soldiers as they try to murder her Pack and Territory. She rips them asunder with her bare hands, unnatural strength in her bones as overhead the sky screams with the Storm Father’s wrath. Crowe covers Selena with her own body and hears Nyx and Libertus scream as the bullets tear open her skin.

-(Somewhere far away, a tiny Princeling SCREAMS like his soul has just been ripped out, screams and leaks magic in desperation as he reaches for something he was not know he had until he was at risk of losing it).

-From the storm clouds above, Ramuh hears the plea of the Chosen, reaches down a hand and heals Crowe’s wounds, fills her with the biting sharp energy of the storm and Crowe gets up, magic and blood on her skin and her eyes a bright lightning purple.

-All four make it to the boats. Just this once Crowe lets them crowd close to cry all over her as they watch their homeland (but not home, not to her) fade away.

-(Far away a little prince collapses in exhaustion, leaving his family and caretakers frantic in confusion over what just happened and why, he wakes up with no answer for his panic or the tears of relief streaming down his face).

-They make it to Insomnia. Libertus and Nyx are just 17, Crowe is 14, Selena is the youngest at 12. The eldest two join the Kingsglaive and Crowe seethes over it, over them receiving power and money and shelter in exchange for being CHAINED by a foreigner herbivore (They try to explain it doesn’t feel like chains at all, but Crowe cannot comprehend it and so just snarls).

-The ache in her chest is so much worse now. She picks fights with anything, bloody and vicious and uncontrolled. They have to pull her away from fights more than once before she can outright kill something. She tries to explain that her soul hurts, that something is GONE and someone has TAKEN IT but she can’t. That feeling has been with her all her life and she still cannot explain what it is.

-Then one day she sits in the ratty apartment they all share for convenience sake (she hates crowding, but this is a city of strangers and she would rather her Territory be safe than her own personal bubble be maintained at risk of their wellbeing) and watches the television with Selena, watching the royal parade that celebrate’s the birthday of the foreigner herbivore king’s welp and-

-The boy appears on the screen. Shy and blue-eyed and smiling at the cameras from where he gets to watch the parade and Crowe-

-Falls.

-She is a Carnivore and always has been. The first female Hibari heir in a century not from choice but happenstance and none will take the right from her. She is Namimori’s protector and Fluffy Carnivore’s Cloud and Tricker Carnivore’s mate and she is- she is-

-Living-dying-breathing-fighting-Clouds-and-Skies-and-freedom-and-mine-mine-mineminedon’tgodon’tLEAVECOMEBACKTOME

-Selena calls Nyx and Lib in a panic even though they are on duty as extra security, sobbing about Crowe SCREAMING and using the magic Storm Father gave her and then passing out with a fever on the floor. By the time they get off shift (they can’t leave early, they are on security detail for the prince himself) and run home, Selena has worked herself into hysterics because Crowe won’t WAKE UP.

-They worry for three days. They would take her to get help, but they are new to the city and how they work. Galahd didn’t have hospitals save in the port towns, and Libertus and Nyx don’t know what to do beyond call a medicine woman, except Insomnia does not have those and the one in Little Galahd cannot determine what is wrong.

-Three days after the parade, Libertus peers into the bedroom (there was only one, the boys slept in the living room while the girls shared the cramped bedroom) and nearly has a heart attack because Crowe is GONE.

-He has no time to worry about that, because an emergency alert comes through his and Nyx’s phone. Code Cerulean. Someone has broken into the Citadel and is NOT STOPPING and all hands are needed to find and stop the threat. They run to the Citadel, cursing the entire way and hoping Crowe is alright.

-They start to get a dreadful sneaking suspicion when they meet the Captain, who is seething as he gives orders from a chair because his legs have been broken by the intruder when he engaged them. Nyx sees what look like very nasty, vicious bite marks under the bandages on Captain’s wrist, like someone bit and then shook and refused to let go until the last second and feels his stomach drop. It can’t be.

-Literally half of the Crownsguard, ten glaives, a pyre-cursed amount of sabotage, bite marks, fractured marble walls and floors, and one very thoroughly winded and staticky Cor the Immortal later and Nyx and Lib can no longer deny what’s going on. Crowe is here in the Citadel and seems to be on the warpath to murder something. They rush to be the first to find her, because maybe they can talk her down and smuggle her out before their Pack sister get’s executed for wreaking this much havoc and assault in the Citadel.

-They finally find her in the Crown Prince’s quarters, having followed the blood trail of one particularly stubborn but unlucky Crownsguard to the living floors and extrapolating from there. They both burst in, more than half convinced they are about to have to kill their own friend for murdering the little prince-.

-Said prince is shamelessly bawling on Crowe’s shoulder, clutching at her clothes like she’ll disappear if he lets go, heedless of the blood on her clothes and hands and hunting knives while the prince’s poor young advisor stands stiffly in the corner, afraid to move lest he get attacked by the feral teenager that just broke in.

-Crowe looks up at their entrance and smiles, teeth bloody but not from her blood, purple-tinted eyes ALIGHT with a joy that takes their breath away (because Crowe is never happy, NEVER, she is content sometimes, but happiness has always been out of reach when something inside her is always so angry and hurting for reasons even she never knew).

-She calls their nicknames and gently runs one bloody hand through the Prince’s hair, possessiveness in every line as she coos at them to “Come meet her Fluffy Sky Carnivore.”

-Of course, before Libertus and Nyx can reboot their brains, the King storms in, his Shield and the recovered Marshal on either side, magic bristling protectively like heavy thunder in the air.

-Crowe snarls at the king, face twisting into a feral expression as she pulls the Crown Prince closer to her and Nyx is SURE that this is it, he’s either going to witness Crowe’s death or the king’s, when the Crown Prince sniffles and pats Crowe’s cheek, “It’s okay, Kyo. He’s a good dad. He loves me. He’s mine.”

-And Crowe grumbles as she relaxes, pulls the Crown Prince more firmly into her lap and hisses defiantly when the Marshal stiffens at the motion. Crown Prince Noctis pats her again, and the king must feel something from the gesture because he groans, “Noctis- Noctis NO. She broke into the Citadel, she’s injured half of our Crownsguard. She’s DANGEROUS.”

-And the Crown Prince just settles more firmly against Crowe while Crowe SMIRKS like she’s just been complemented, and blue eyes burn bright amber as the Crown Prince announces calmly, “She’s MINE.”

-And Nyx realizes he can feel the little prince’s magic pounding a second heartbeat in Crowe’s chest like it had always belonged there.

...

-Noctis remembers being Tsunayoshi, in a dreamy, vague way that can only be his Vongola Intuition come back to haunt, but he doesn’t Remember until Hibari Kyoka (now called Crowe Altius) breaks into the Citadel and wreaks total havoc in her efforts to get upstairs to him. She breaks into his room and he has only a moment to be scared of the bloody intruder while Ignis dives at her in a vain attempt to defend Noctis when he meets her eyes and-

-Everything in his mind unfurls.

-He doesn’t pass out, but that’s probably only because of how long his dreams have been haunted by his past life. Tsunayoshi blinks twice and then resettles back into the skin of Noctis before leaping up with Kyoka’s old name on his lips. In an instant Ignis is pushed aside (not harmed, because he bears Noctis’s magic, and that marks him as Territory too). Kyoka snatches Noctis into her arms and he can FEEL the gaping whole in her soul where their bond should be and he sobs on both of their behalves as he pours his magic into the gap, clings to her and sobs harder when she LETS HIM (and doesn’t that tell just how desperate she was, how lonely and lost and angry that she lets him crowd without hesitation).

-Two Glaives burst in a few moments later and Noctis tries to compose himself as Kyoka smiles warmly at them (Territory, they are her Territory so he must protect them-) and invites them closer. His father, Clarus, and Cor all burst in moments after that and Kyoka SNARLS ready to fight, because Tsunayoshi’s father had been a terrible man and she has no reference for this one. Noctis soothes her, then looks his father dead in the eye and names this woman HIS.

-His father can feel the magic Noctis has given her. They both know it is too late to change Noctis’s mind.

-Crowe sticks around. Disappearing from sight only to reappear the moment anyone acting poorly around Noctis. Noctis knew his father (and wasn’t it novel to have a loving father this time) was worried at the fanaticism in Crowe’s gaze, but Crowe had been blessed by Ramuh (how had THAT HAPPENED hieeeee) and he eventually concludes that loyalty to Noctis was Ramuh’s price for the Blessing. Noctis doesn’t bother to correct him.

-Nyx and Libertus and Selena are all very nice people. He’s glad Crowe was not alone all these years.

-Noctis narrowly avoids death by marilith when he senses it coming on the way back to Insomnia and screams desperately for the driver to turn around. They stop to see what is wrong with him and Crowe launches herself out of the back seat to fight the thing in time to keep it from reaching the car. Noctis had taken one look at his Cloud in mortal peril from a giant nightmare monster and lit the night with magical fire that burned amber and white from the heat. 

-Crowe hates Gladiolus within their first meeting, probably because Gladiolus thinks Noctis is spoiled and wimpy. She refrains from killing him only because Noctis says so, but seethes whenever Noctis comes back from yet another training session spent meekly following Gladiolus’s orders and getting sneered at for it.

-It doesn’t occur to Noctis to change his behavior or to tell his father about Gladiolus’s attitude. Because Noctis is Tsunayoshi and no matter how many years he was a respected and fear mafia boss, some part of him will always quietly wait for the other shoe to drop and the abuse to start. So the sneering and too-long spars as Gladiolus tries to make Noctis a swordsman when he hates fighting with anything but his hands is nothing new, and nothing compared to Reborn’s training. So he lets it go.

-Until one day Gladiolus gets past his guard and accidentally hits far too hard. Noctis feels something give and it hurts to breathe. He knows he should call the match right there.

-He doesn’t, because there’s a voice in his head going “a mafia boss doesn’t quit, Dame-Tsuna” and Gladiolus is looking at him with those eyes again. So Noctis gets up and keeps going past the pain that gets worse the more he moves.

-He can barely pretend to be normal as he walks back to his suite, settles on the couch with a wheeze that tastes like newly minted coins. Crowe is at his side in an instant (she was never allowed to watch the training for fear of what she’d do to Gladio) and a moment later she’s yelling for Ignis. Who then calls the doctors and the next thing Noctis knows he’s in the medical wing being treated for a broken rib and a nicked lung.

-His father is there, worried and angry both and demands to know why Noctis didn’t SAY ANYTHING. He could have DIED. How had this happened?

-Noctis doesn’t want to get Gladiolus in trouble, because he knows the boy didn’t mean to, but his dad is looking at him with too serious eyes and Noctis can do nothing else but tell what happened.

-Gladiolus goes pale when he hears the story. He gets even paler when, upon being asked yet again why he didn’t STOP, Noctis whispers, “I didn’t want to be a wimpy brat...”

-Crowe snarls, thick and dark and feral, a terrifying, unnatural sound, and Noctis winces at the look on Crowe’s face as Gladiolus is led away for a punishment and nasty lecture from Clarus. Noctis knows it will take years, if ever, for Crowe to forgive Gladio.

-Crowe brings him Prompto two weeks later as a comfort gift. Yes. Brings. Crowe, on her patrol, spotted the cute boy talking to himself, apparently trying to work up the nerve to talk to Noctis, and decided he would make a good addition. She then proceeded to pick him up and carry him all the way to the Citadel, depositing the wide-eyed boy at Noctis’s side on the couch in his room before sauntering away in satisfaction. Surprisingly, despite this horrible first impression, Prompto agreed to be Noctis’s friend anyway. Noctis was glad to have someone else on his side who understood how terrifying Crowe could be and how awesome Ignis was.

...

-The four reincarnated souls do not all reunite until years later. A formal visit from Queen Sylva of Tenebrae and her two children. Noctis, 14 years old and wise beyond his years, takes one look at the absentminded look in Luna’s eyes, like she’s seeing everything and nothing, and Ravus cheerfully tossing a marshmallow in his mouth when no one else is looking and Knows. He smiles back at them, pleased to see another old friend, then groans when Crowe grabs her tonfa and lunges.

-It was only Ravus’s delighted laughter that kept the Tenebrae delegation from assuming this was an assassination attack. It also helped that Byakuran had always been adept at bribing his wife, and clearly still kept the habit of carrying around her favorite flavor of sweet. Ravus offered her the candy in his pocket in exchange for Crowe to stop fighting him (for now) and Crowe snatched it with a contented, “I will bite you later Trickster Carnivore,” before sauntering back to Noctis’s side while he groaned into his hands and the adults all sputtered at her choice of wording.

-What a wonderful first impression, Crowe. Thank you. Really.

#SE asks #anon asks #HOW DARE #Secret Engima Rambles #Fangs and Feathers verse

[batsintheshadows]

A Promising Soldier

Fenir’s head, no, his everything, hurt. Like a bell that had just been struck too hard. His teeth felt like they were about to fall out of his skull. Thankfully, he recognized the place he’d ended up. He’d wandered through here before once or twice. Knew his way around. But it was later than it should have been. The sky was purple and red, darkness where there should be late afternoon sunshine.

What happened to me? Fenir wondered. His mind was a blank, only a vague memory of running and absolute panic remained. There was evidence of things that had happened. A burn in his throat that suggested vomiting, split open knuckles and torn nails meant a desperate animal fight. Snarling fury and not much else.

Gross.

Standing was harder than it should be, so Fenir didn’t bother. He was in a good enough place to sleep tonight, and he was so much more tired than he should be at this hour, even if he’d been fighting. Like he’d been hollowed out and left shaking. All his energy burned up. He curled into a ball, unable to care if whatever he’d been running from had followed him or not. Exhaustion clouding his mind.

“Hey kid!”

Before Fenir could look up, he was being dragged off the stairwell to face an utterly furious woman with deep gouges up and down her arms. Bits and pieces of plant still in her hair. Spitting fury, the woman punched Fenir full in the face.

“You got my brother arrested you little animal!”

The woman with the knife. The one he had just seen attacking the preacher. Fenir tried to bite and struggle, but all his energy was spent.

Stupid. He chided himself. Stupid stupid stupid.

“You’ll pay for that! You’ll pay for that in blood, I can promise you that!” She was just drawing back her fist for another blow when the sound of footfalls made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, and a horrible, wicked grin split over her face when she saw the grey haired human with a cane that had approached the scene.

“Go away old man, unless you want to be next.”

The man’s voice was steady and strong. “You can’t afford to wait that long my dear.”

While the woman was trying to figure out what he meant, the man moved quick as lightning. Yanking her legs out from under her with his cane. She let go of Fenir’s shirt in pure shock as she fell, sending him tumbling to the ground as well. The man, with a lightness on his feet that his age never would have hinted at, stepped between her and Fenir’s fallen form. The woman glared at him as she leapt to her feet again.

“Beating children?” The man asked, disappointment in his eyes. “That’s low.”

“It’s my right after what he did to my brother!” The woman yelled.

The smile that came to the man’s face was truly chilling. “If you feel that’s true then please, feel free to go through me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Too enraged to listen to reason, the woman charged, going low with the knife…

And was promptly knocked upside the head by the man’s cane. She collapsed to the floor, groaning. Stunned. Only then did the man look back to meet Fenir’s wide eyes and give a warm smile.

“We should leave.” He said, offering a hand up. “Azorius patrols will be coming this way soon, and they aren’t fond of vigilantes.”

All Fenir could do was stare, blood running from his mouth where the woman’s fist had split his lip. “Wh-who are you?” He managed to ask.

“Oric Vord. And you would be?”

“Fenir Vallas.”

“Well Fenir Vallas, we should leave.” Vord still held his hand out expectantly.

After a moment, Fenir took it. His legs nearly gave out from under him, but Vord held him steady.

“Easy there young man, you alright?”

Fenir could only groan in response.

“Alright then.” Concern bled through the human’s voice, though it was obvious he was trying to mask it. “Not to worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

 They didn’t walk far, but Fenir nearly collapsed when they reached a place a few streets over with stairs good enough to sit on.

“You’ve had a rough time haven’t you?” Vord asked, sitting down beside him. “You know there are places to go other than an empty doorway right?”

Fenir looked at his hands. They were quivering. Shaking like grass in the breeze. Was it shock? The after effects of whatever that preacher had done? He wasn’t sure.

Vord was still looking at him. Studying his face like he was trying to see what was going on inside Fenir’s head. “You’ve seen the Selesnya yes? They’ll take anyone in.”

Fenir’s face felt a little colder as the blood drained away. Cold horror. Fear. It seemed like the human understood what he was feeling, even though he couldn’t. Couldn’t know the sickness just thinking about those preachers and their magic bought on.

“The Orzhov have orphanages too, though I can’t blame you for not wanting to go there.” It felt like he was scrambling up a hill the way he was talking. Trying to fix some mistake but scrabbling at mud instead. Useless actions that only managed to make things messy.

The fact that he didn’t know what all these names meant scared Fenir almost as bad as the strange alien magic. Stranded on another world. Alone. No idea what was going on.

It was a terrifying fate.

“Do you not have any family?” Vord knew that Fenir didn’t. He must have known. But he was still. Talking. “Aunts? Uncles?” A moment’s hesitation when Fenir shook his head no. “What happened to your parents?”

The image of the last time Fenir had seem his parents barged into his brain like an unwelcome intruder. Kicking down the flimsy blockade of denial he’d built around it, dragging him back into that horrible moment. His breathing turned to gasps, almost full on sobs.

At least Vord looked ashamed of himself. “That was a stupid question.” He muttered. “I apologise.”

Right. Because that fixed everything didn’t it?

The human stopped talking. Finally. But he did not leave. He just sat there, watching Fenir like he wanted him to stop crying. All wide eyes and concern.

“I saw what you did for that preacher.” He said after a few minutes had passed. After Fenir had time to make his breathing go back to normal. “You hate the Selesnya, you’re scared of them. Why did you fight for him?”

All Fenir could offer in return was a shrug. It was the right thing to do, obviously. But looking back it seemed so stupid. The whole mess had wiped his sapience for a few hours and nearly split his head open.

It was still the right thing to do though. No matter if Vord thought it was stupid.

“You’re very brave.” The human’s gentle voice broke through Fenir’s angry thought. “There’s fewer people than there should be that are willing to stand up to injustice when it’s towards someone they don’t like.”

“Not like he deserved it.” Fenir’s voice surprised him. He didn’t use it much these past few days. Every time he heard it, it felt like listening to someone else. Somehow far more childish than it had been in years. “He was probably nice, I just…”

I just hate the way his magic gets inside me and makes me feel feral and small and scared. Hate the way it clings to his clothes and hangs in the air even when he isn’t casting it. Hate the way it makes me frenzy when he casts it right next to me and all I want to do is run and hate how I feel afterwards like now. Almost too tired to think.

Vord was still watching Fenir like he wanted to pull out the gears in his head and see what made them spin, but Fenir was done talking. The last of his energy seemed spent. He lay back against the wall, closing his eyes. Just wanting to rest, more than anything. But Vord shook him awake again.

“I…don’t want to take up too much of your time.” He said. “But I have something for you.” He slipped something into Fenir’s hand, and the boy forced his eyes open again to look at it.

A locket. Simple steel on a crimson ribbon. Curious, Fenir popped it open, revealing a red fist on a white background.

“You were brave today.” Vord says in answer to his questioning gaze. “We’d pass these along to recognise acts of valour, back when I was in the Boros. I’ve held onto it for far too long.”

Fenir couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ll pass it along too I imagine. One day. But you’ve parted with more valuable things.” Vord hesitated for a moment. “Where did you leave that blanket?”

“A sick lady needed it.” Fenir said before realising what Vord’s question meant. Realised the only way he could know about it was if…

“You? You gave me the blanket?”

“Ah. Yes I did.” Vord glanced away, not blushing but looking like he’d quite like to. “And the cakes. Did I overstep?”

Fenir shook his head vehemently, tears springing to his eyes. “Thank you.” He said, the words seeming too small. Not nearly enough.

“You’re welcome.”

“Can you-can you find me somewhere safe?” Maybe it was a selfish question to ask after everything Vord had already done, but Fenir had opened his mouth before he even realised it and the words just came tumbling out. But Vord didn’t frown. He didn’t laugh. All he did was stare into space for a moment and nod.

“I can put you up in an inn for a few nights every now and again, but my pension won’t be able to cover it forever. I’m sorry.”

“Then let me stay with you!” Still exhausted, Fenir struggled to his feet, swaying violently as the ground seemed to lurch under him. “I…please. There’s nowhere else to go.”

Vord frowned, but it didn’t look angry. It was more like the look he gave when Fenir nearly fell over. Concern. “You don’t even know me Fenir.”

“I don’t care!”

“You don’t know if I’m dangerous.”

“You aren’t any more dangerous than sleeping on the street.” Fenir’s voice rose in panic. “Please. You won’t even need to feed me. I’ll go back to where I’ve been getting my food. Just…please.”

So this is what my life is now. Fenir thought with a touch of bitterness. Begging a stranger for something he has no reason to give.

It all seemed so…empty. Scraps of his old life with his family. Echoes that would never be whole again, no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay.” Fenir nearly collapsed at that single word. That echo of what it meant to have a home. To be safe. “Okay you can stay with me, if that’s what you really want. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll make sure you’re safe for the night, and when you aren’t tired and scared you can decide what you want to do next.”

It was as close to a home as Fenir was going to get. “Tomorrow.” He muttered, swaying on his feet, vision going dark.

It was safe to sleep now.

#Fenir #fanwalker #mtg

[evolutionsvoid]

Lock-Arm is an entity that was brought to life by a slaver, a corrupt mage and very poor planning. It all started when a slaver was looking for a new way to punish his slaves, while keeping them functional enough to still work. Pain and torture only made them weak and unable to work, so he sought to create special bindings that would solve the problem. He went through many different designs and concepts, creating shackles and masks that hung heavy upon the wearer and had nasty spikes built inside to jab into the flesh. As time went on, his designs began to get more and more elaborate, until he created the perfect imprisoning gear. It had sharp internal spikes, a muzzling mask, a heavy yoke, binding chains and stifling gauntlets. It was a horrible sight to behold, and it was even more unpleasant to wear. Those who wore it were eager to be free from its painful clutches, and the slaver felt that he had succeeded. As time went on, though, he started to think about ways to improve the device. His mind went to magic, and the slaver reached out to a shady mage. He wished for the magic user to bring the armor to life, so that it could serve as a guard/torturer/executioner. It would create an efficient guard who could keep everyone in line and be able to dole out punishment at a moment's notice. With enough gold shoved his way, the mage agreed. It took weeks of attempts and research to find the right spell to do the trick, but one night, they solved it. The slaver and mage watched with triumph as strange magic brought the suit of armor to life. The two celebrated...right before the armor clamped itself onto the mage and ran off into the darkness. That night, Lock-Arm was born, and his creator was his very first meal. To this day, Lock-Arm roams the many kingdoms, not bound to any master or law. Ravenous, the living suit of armor seeks victims to devour, though that is not all he searches for.

     Attitude - The best anyone can describe Lock-Arm is "animalistic" and "feral." Though he is a suit of armor, he is filled with hunger. This hunger is what drives him, forcing him to seek out new meals and set up traps for potential victims. When it comes to feeding, Lock-Arm acts much like a predator. He stalks his prey, prepares ambushes and brutally attacks any who try to fight him. He is incapable of speech on his own, so he communicates through clanging of metal, rattling of chains and snapping his mask like a set of jaws. Though he acts like a wild animal most of the time, Lock-Arm does appear to understand other beings, as he reacts to whoever tries talking to him. Though he may understand words, that does not mean they will work on him. He appears to not trust anyone who approaches him and will often lash out if someone gets too close. While Lock-Arm has the viciousness of a beast, he does display a curiosity with things. He has been known to pick up and toy with objects he has not seen before, and some have even spotted him spying on others. This may be a result of Lock-Arm's lack of purpose or goal, as he has no master to follow or real end game set in mind. Though he is perfectly capable of hunting and feeding for the rest of his life, his level of intelligence yearns for something more. What it is he wants exactly is not known by anyone, including him. With that, Lock-Arm has some strange behavior from time to time. He can be seen trying out new things and attempting to mimic the actions of others in hopes of finding something he likes. While his intentions may be good, the way he does these things are often not. One of his favorite things to try is to take over the life of a host. He will imprison a person inside himself and then try to live their everyday life and act like everything is normal. This usually does not go well, as friends and family do not like it when a loved one is trapped screaming in a suit of armor that is trying to poorly imitate them.   Relations - Due to Lock-Arm's ravenous nature, not many are willing to work with him, or even be around him. Since he feeds upon human-shaped victims, anyone that fits that bill is sure to keep far away from him. One of the few beings he has interacted with in a positive way is Goregok. Since Goregok is a living suit of armor too, Lock-Arm finds it a lot easier to communicate with him. Though the two are similar and can talk to one another, Lock-Arm is still wary of the hungry knight. The two have been seen snarling to one another from a distance, though no one is sure what they are saying. The relationship between the two varies from time to time. In some cases, Goregok is able to "convince" Lock-Arm to let go of a prisoner, or has gone against the order to help him escape. At other times, the two have fought with each other, tearing at one another like wild animals. Some beings, like Englorious Shaid or King Olaf have attempted to get Lock-Arm to work for them, but these arrangements do not go well. Lock-Arm is not easily controlled, and often ignores plans in favor of food. Subordinates - None Abilities - Lock-Arm's infamy comes from his ability to drain energy from those he imprisons. The iron spikes within his form can jab into a victim and slowly suck away their vitality. The amount he drains out over time can be changed by him, either stretching out feedings over the course of days, or sucking someone dry in a manner of minutes. This sped up feeding is only done in emergencies, when he needs to dump the prisoner in order to lighten his load and escape attackers. When he has fully consumed a person's life force, he will eject them from his body, flinging out a shriveled husk of a corpse. This ejection of a prisoner or a carcass is occasionally used to throw enemies off guard, as he hurls a screaming person at their faces. His life-draining abilities work the best on human-sized and human-shaped beings. Those types of entities can be fully imprisoned and be drained by every one of his inner spikes. For those who do not fit his body, he can still latch onto them with one of his open limbs so that a few of his draining spikes can jab into their flesh. With this, he can sap away some energy, but at a much weaker rate. Though this process is not good for getting a lot of food or killing foes, it is helpful for weakening enemies so that they cannot hurt him. While the life energy he drains is used primarily as food, it can also be used to heal his wounded form. He is somehow capable of using this energy to undent his metal bits or mend any broken limbs. Since this costs a fair amount of energy, he is usually forced to go on a feeding frenzy after fixing himself. Besides his life-draining abilities, Lock-Arm has some other odd powers. One is to hijack the voice of anyone who is trapped inside his mask. His iron mask muffles the mouth of those inside, but he is able to somehow parrot their voice clearly. Though he can mimic their voice perfectly, he is not that good at conversation. He often repeats phrases over and over, or says things that have nothing to do with the situation. When trying to imitate a host, he usually goes way over the top with things and has no ability to read others or the mood of the room. In one case, he was heard going on and on about how it was a nice day for a picnic, while the family he had wedged himself into screamed for their lives. Another ability he has is the power to wield the magic of anyone who is imprisoned inside of him. If he captures a mage, he can use their mana for his own uses, and perform any spell that they know. This makes him extra powerful when he imprisons a magic user, but he does not really know how to safely use it. Most of the time he winds up burning out the mage inside him as he goes overboard with the spell casting. Though this is not confirmed, there is a rumor that Lock-Arm absorbs more than life energy from those he feeds on. Some claim that parts and pieces of a being's memories and mind are taken into his form. No one knows if this is true, and Lock-Arm has not shown any signs of this supposed ability. At least not yet. Tools - Lock-Arm's greatest tool is his own body. His sharp spine can burrow into flesh while his chained gauntlets wrap around arms and engulf a victim's hands. His mask and chest can split open to latch onto a person, while the leg braces bind themselves to others in a flash. His control over this body is quite powerful, as he is nearly impossible to remove once he has fully latched on. The only other tool he uses is a ball and chain, which he swings around like a flail. This can also be used to bind prey and weigh them down, slowing them so he can feed upon them at his leisure. Weaknesses - Though Lock-Arm is a suit of armor, he is still vulnerable to damage. Without anyone inside him, he is not that heavy and can easily be knocked around by powerful blows. Crushing attacks and blunt objects can dent his armor, making it difficult to latch onto things. When he does have someone trapped inside of him, he is slowed down by their weight and form, making it easier to catch him. His body also loses a large amount of flexibility when he is feeding on someone, which means he has a harder time dodging attacks or slipping out of small exits. His size and shape also cuts down on the amount of people he can imprison, as large non-humanoids won't fit in his armor at all. This removes a major threat from his arsenal, as he cannot latch onto the attacker and hijack their body. His hunger for life force is also a weakness, as it makes him predictable when he is hunting, and unstable when he is starving. When obsessive over food, he grows impatient and does not think things through. He will throw himself at a potential meal, uncaring about any traps or setups. This hunger also undermines any attempts he makes at reaching out to others, as he quickly devolves into a predatory animal whenever the urge strikes. His appetite and aggressive ways makes it hard to form relations or partnerships, forcing him to always be alone.

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