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cicada-bones · 3 years

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The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 15: The Healers

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Days passed, and the rhythm of them was strange, off-kilter. But not unwelcome.

Rowan and the princess no longer sat in silence on the ridge each day. While they didn’t fill entire afternoons with conversation, speech flowed much more freely between them now. Something had changed. Something imperceptible, but vital.

Yet still, her shifting remained elusive.

Those iron bars remained rigid, locked tight. Fear either had no effect or shut her down completely, anger just made her impossible to deal with, and if these weeks had accomplished nothing else, they had shown that she was completely unable to find any peace within herself. She still couldn’t accept her own identity, and Rowan had run out of ways to try to force her to.

The three times she had managed to make the shift had been when Rowan bit her, when they faced the skinwalkers, and her complete loss of control when faced with the dark creature. The only time she’d even gotten close to control had been with the skinwalkers, but as Rowan had no interest in putting either of them in mortal danger again, that wasn’t a particularly helpful insight.

However, there was one more thing he thought he could try. The girl was the heir to two mighty bloodlines, descendant to Brannon and Mab. She wasn’t only blessed with fire magic, but also water. Perhaps there was someone else close by who could help him.

It was a fifteen mile walk to the healers’ compound. Fifteen there, and fifteen back. Thirty miles, all at a mortal pace. This had better be worth it.

Rowan had visited the compound nearly as often as Mistward, checking in with the Head Healer and the soldiers stationed there, picking up reports, and distributing orders from Maeve. The camp lay on the border of Maeve’s lands and the mortal kingdom to the north, where both human and Fae peoples could reach them. As a result, while it was mostly populated by Fae or demi-Fae, humans could often be seen within the keep, both gifted and mortal alike.

It was where Malakai and Emrys sent those who were injured but could still travel, where anyone within several dozen miles would try to go if they were sick or hurt. Therefore, Rowan didn’t only want to ask after the princess – he also needed to find out if any other demi-Fae had escaped the clutches of the dark creature, and come here for treatment. Or if the healers here had found any bodies of their own. Perhaps Rowan could solve both of his problems at once.

The Head Healer at this particular camp was an old female named Namonora. He’d met her numerous times over the years, had even been treated by her, though that had been long ago, and wasn’t a time he recalled with much grace. Though he knew that she was kind, ancient and wise. A good female, who didn’t use her power or influence to manipulate, the way so many immortals did. She was not one to waste time playing games – not when lives could be on the line. It was quality Rowan appreciated. Particularly considering what he was about to ask of her.

While it was a hospital, the fort also served as a school, and a home to the many Fae who lived, worked, and taught here. So all kinds of people bustled about, carrying books and papers, cloths and bandages, stringing children along at their heels or crying quietly in out-of-the-way corners. It was a place filled with life and death and noise, and so while the wild princess’ eyes immediately lit up upon their arrival, Rowan was somewhat uncomfortable in the chaos.

He soon left the girl to wander the grounds and went off to find the Head Healer. It didn’t take long. Namonora was in the thick of things, instructing a pupil on the correct way to set a broken limb while watching over another as they applied a poultice to a daunting gash, then began to stitch the gruesome wound closed.

He quietly approached, not wanting to disturb any of the healers, but Namonora’s clever eyes soon took notice of him. She pulled aside another senior healer to fill her place and walked over to meet him.

“Prince Whitethorn. Greetings.”

Rowan inclined his head, “May we speak, somewhere out the way?”

She nodded, striding quickly into the hall and towards a small, empty office. As they entered, Rowan quickly shut the door with a gust of wind. Namonora turned her sharp gaze back on him, raising her eyebrows in a silent inquiry.

Rowan answered her unasked question, with only a slight hesitation. “I’m currently stationed at Mistward, and recently four dead demi-Fae have been found near the fortress. Has word of this reached you?” His voice felt colder than usual, icy at the inconvenience of having to ask for the old healer’s help.

Namonora’s wrinkled face fell, her lily-and-mint-and-rain flavored scent darkening with sorrow. “Yes, Malakai sent word, a few weeks past. I had not heard that the numbers had gotten so high, however.”

“Did he mention the circumstances of their deaths?”

“No – I didn’t realize there was anything to mention.” Her clever eyes glanced over him as she spoke, efficiently assessing. But not in the way of a warrior – in the way of a healer. Her gaze didn’t pierce, only searched. Evaluating a patient. Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she saw in his hard features.

His jaw tightened. “All four were drained of life, and left as withered husks. There were no marks on them, besides dried blood around their mouths and ears.”

“The skinwalkers? I heard they are beginning to leave their mountain haunts.”

“No this is something different.”

The healer slipped into some hidden, calculating part of herself. “You said ‘withered.’ What does that mean, exactly?”

“Their skin was dried and wrinkled, far beyond the reach of their age. It was almost as though they had been left in the desert sun for weeks on end – only none had decomposed beyond a few days. Both scavengers and bugs avoided them, which was inconspicuous in itself. And there was this…smell. That covers them. Not only death, but the scent of the creature that killed them.”

“So you are sure that they were killed – and did not die of disease or another health problem? Sometimes, overuse of magic can cause victims to contort in strange ways.”

Rowan shook his head, saying, “I am sure that it wasn’t a series of burnouts, I could recognize that easily. And I doubt a disease – ”

“Would be able to kill people in such a strange grouping,” the healer interrupted, nodding at him, “All demi-Fae, all scattered throughout the wild, no other cases outside these four, and a very quick onset – death would have been almost immediate. And for a health problem, such as a new kind of blood infection or tumor, to take four completely separate individuals, all under such strange circumstances, is so unlikely as to be functionally impossible.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. Those were the conclusions he had drawn as well.

“Still…” the healer mused, “It is hard to be sure. Would it perhaps be possible for a victim to be brought to us for examination, should another be found? We can investigate the body and discover beyond doubt what the cause of death actually was.”

“Of course.” Rowan’s voice was dark as he mentally kicked himself, he should have thought of that weeks ago.

Namonora nodded, her lips tightening. “Still, I hope that we do not hear from each other again. I would rather this remain a mystery forever than for another Fae to suffer this fate.”

Rowan dipped his head.

“Do you have any ideas about the culprit, Prince? Is it perhaps some new immortal foe, or just another powerful Fae who has lost their way?”

Rowan hesitated, unsure. “I think…there is a chance that I saw the creature. The scent was similar. I never got a close look at it, but the female I was traveling with did. She described it as looking like a man, with eyes that were completely black. It created this cloud of darkness, so deep that I couldn’t see her within it. When she finally escaped, she was different. Pale, and sickly. Afterwards, she said that the creature made her relive her worst memories. All the bodies died with expressions of pure terror on their faces as well. It’s almost as though the creature kills through fear itself.”

Namonora’s frown deepened. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“And no one has come to the fortress bearing a similar story?”

“None. I would remember. Anyone who met this dark creature either did not come here, or did not survive their encounter.”

Rowan nodded gruffly, his jaw tightening.

The ancient healer’s face turned towards the window, looking out over the grounds where Rowan could just barely see the princess. She was walking among an arrangement of tents, following a group of pupils as they made their rounds through the sick. Namonora’s brow furrowed, her scent filling up with fear and anxiety as she looked over all these people who were now in danger, people who she was responsible for.

Who he was responsible for.

Namonora turned back to look at him, her old eyes shrewd and thoughtful. “I have heard tales from long ago, ancient stories of creatures from the deep dark. Beings that fled from the wars of other worlds, and slipped past the watchful eyes of Mala and Deanna and all the other gods of this realm.” Her voice was soft, as if she called the words up from deep within. “They are darkness made flesh – said not to bleed, not to hurt, not to die. They are evil, and Maeve protects us from them with her own dark magics.”

Rowan almost shook his head at the old healer. He had heard many such stories – they were fireside tales, fabricated from encounters with much more ordinary foes like the barrow wights and skinwalkers, and then stretched beyond reality and into that nebulous range of myth and legend. Maeve may even have even invented them in order to solidify her standing among the Fae, where the peoples’ fear of her could easily turn from respectful into hateful.

But then Namonora continued. “More and more often, we receive patients from the west, and they bear news of things stirring there. Old things. Perhaps now they have come east.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where have you heard this.”

“A few weeks past, a traveler from the Red Desert. She would not tell us any specifics, but she spoke of things, dark things, rising in the south. And then another, from the Dead Islands, bearing the same news.”

“Adarlan?”

“Perhaps. And yet, perhaps not.”

Rowan shook his head slowly. It was hearsay, nothing else. “Regardless, the creature is here, whether it came from the west or down from the mountains or from deep within the eastern caves.”

Namonora nodded, spooling herself back into the confident leader she had been only a few moments before. “I wish you luck on your search, Prince. I will let you know if any come bearing news of the creature, though I am sorry that I cannot be of much more help.”

She turned to leave, thinking the matter settled. But Rowan held out his hand for her to stop, forced to halt her retreat. He was not done.

“There’s something else. This isn’t the real reason I was stationed at Mistward.” The healer cocked her head, Rowan’s stomach sank. “Maeve has asked me to train a demi-Fae female in her power, and I’ve been having some…difficulty…in helping her access her shifting.” Rowan tried to hide his reluctance to ask for help, but doubted he succeeded. This ancient healer had been teaching for far too long not to see right past his defenses.

“Are you asking after my medical or educational expertise?” Namonora’s sharp gaze roved over him once again, reassessing, her eyes glinting with the gathered knowledge.

“Perhaps both. The girl is stubborn, and has some kind of…block. Between her and her power.”

“Hmm.” The corners of the healer’s lips curved into a small frown as she considered his words. She turned to look out the window once again, only this time her eyes sought out the princess. The girl was now speaking with a woman who was sitting on a cot, her arm in a sling. The woman laughed at something, while the princess responded with a small smile, the warmest Rowan had yet seen her give, though her eyes were still dark. Seeing her there, among others of her like, made Rowan feel more alone than he had in weeks.

“Are you asking on her behalf, or yours, Prince?” The healer’s question startled him, and Rowan turned to face her, only just now realizing that Namonora had been observing him watching the princess. “It is possible that the girl isn’t trying, that she doesn’t want to make the shift at all. Doesn’t want to train, to become a warrior. Perhaps this life,” she looked pointedly at Rowan, “is not what she wants for herself.”

His voice was tight, “The girl is already a warrior, so she has no other life to choose from, and she’s not unwise enough to drag this out on purpose – she knows that she’s entered into an agreement that she cannot break.”

Namonora’s lips tightened, and she nodded. While she lived in the outskirts of Maeve’s kingdom, away from her court, the healer was not oblivious to her ways. Though she respected Maeve, she did not love her.

So instead of pressing, she just said, “Shifting involves the piercing of the veil that separates the two forms of the soul, Fae and animal. To shift, one needs to find the peace within themselves, to fully inhabit the one form, and so, travel into the other. I am sure that you know this.”

Rowan nodded, a quick jerk of his head.

“There are some physical maladies that can prevent the shift, but they are very, very rare. It’s much more likely that the girl has some kind of emotional imbalance, or residual trauma, that is making it difficult for her to access her other form. All work through such things in their own way, and at their own pace. There is a chance that the female will never be able to overcome this barrier, and will always feel its effects.” Namonora’s eyes found Rowan’s. “There is not much one can do to help, besides provide support, and attempt not to add to their burden.”

Rowan almost snorted – he didn’t think he’d met anyone less in need of coddling than that girl. She could handle her ego all by herself. But the healer’s gaze did not leave his, seeking to communicate something further, something without words. And it set his teeth on edge.

There were precious few Fae that did not know Rowan’s history, and Namonora was not one of them. She had been the one who healed him after Maeve pulled him from his years of aimless wandering. Had helped restore his body from the weak, half-starved mess he had been. She knew very well what had caused him to become the cold, hard male that sat before her. Perhaps that was why she found it easier to deal with him than so many others.

Rowan could feel his muscles tense as the silence lengthened, but the wise female did not pursue the matter. “May I pass on some good, general advice?” she asked softly.

Rowan nodded slowly, while the healer’s minty scent enveloped him, her green eyes still on his.

“People tend to learn better when you align their own motivations with that which you are trying to instill in them. Discover what emotions drive this female, discover what she wants. And use that to help guide her shift.”

Rowan’s lips tightened as he nodded once again.

“Blocks in magic are mental, and therefore emotional. The female will not truly be able to overcome this challenge until she overcomes whatever created it. But still, if you find what drives her, what spurs her to action, you may find her a path over, or around the block.” Namonora seemed to look right through him, pushing aside his barriers and digging right into the truth. “But it will not go away on its own. She must face it, and only then will she be able to find the peace.”

Rowan absolutely could not escape the impression that the healer wasn’t only talking about the princess anymore. An impression that was solidified with the female’s parting words.

“And Prince?” She seemed to hesitate momentarily, then said, “You cannot atone forever. Do not let your grief destroy what remains of your life – there is hope still, hope for a brighter future. Do not let that spark go out.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched tight, and he left the office without another word, the force of the healer’s gaze burrowing a hole into his retreating back.

She was wrong. There was no hope for him. He had been left completely alone, to fill the aching chasm in his chest with a feeble oath to a dark queen. But as Rowan rounded a corner, and the princess came into view, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he used to be. That perhaps the spark the healer had spoken of did not belong to him, but to her.

And it was his responsibility that it did not go out. That instead, it flourished.

···

Rowan arrived back at the fortress that evening to the news that another body had been found. The girl had already returned to her room when Rowan met Malakai in the kitchens, where the two males were speaking quietly before the hearth.

Rowan barely caught the words, “I’m so worried, Emrys – ” before the males took notice of him, and they broke apart. Malakai’s face was grave as he relayed the information, his scent filled with sorrow and anger. Emrys stood by quietly, supporting his mate while stirring something fragrant on the fire.

This report was no different than all the others – an unknown demi-Fae male was found dumped in the wilderness – only this time the intelligence came from a scout stationed at another fortress almost forty miles to the southwest. The body was emaciated, near water, and only a few miles from the sea. The neighboring fortress then sent a missive to Malakai, having received his warning, with the location of the body and a promise to continue to apprise Mistward of any further discoveries.

Rowan then informed Malakai of the news he had gathered from the healer’s compound, and of Namonora’s request to see one of the bodies. Luckily, the healers’ fort was closer to the new body site than Mistward, meaning that whoever moved the body of the demi-Fae would only have to ferry it three or so miles through the wilderness, instead of nearly twenty or thirty – a much more manageable task. Malakai promised he would dispatch a pair of sentries, with orders to purchase a wagon in a nearby town, after Rowan had a chance to visit the site.

Even so, Malakai’s scent was permeated with sorrow and anger and shame – just as Rowan did, Malakai felt responsible for every day that passed while they failed to capture the creature, and to protect the fortress and its neighboring lands. That was their purpose – and the more weeks that passed, the higher the death count grew, the greater their shame.

And so, before he departed the kitchen and left the two males alone to comfort each other, Rowan said, “Malakai, I – ” He paused, and huffed a sigh, then shook his head. The words were dead things in his mouth.

Rowan wanted…not to thank the male, but to say that he understood. That he also would fight for the fortress, and the people within it. But the words would not come, and so instead he just said, “We will visit the body tomorrow, if you send the sentries around midafternoon you should miss us.”

“So Elentiya will go as well, Prince?” Emrys asked.

Rowan nodded and left the kitchens without another word.

But then he reconsidered – the site was over twenty miles to the southwest, much too far to travel on foot with the princess. Even if she miraculously managed to shift, the distance was a lot for a young demi-Fae. Forty miles in a single day would take up nearly half their time, and that was if she was in her Fae form. Which was far from assured.

But the body was very close to a seaside village, and the girl was right – there was a high probability that the townspeople knew something. It was hard to believe that creature could travel so widely without being spotted, especially since they had already seen it, and escaped once, and at the time they hadn’t even been looking for it. Such a strange being would surely be a source of gossip in a slow, sleepy village so far from the capital.

But it was very unlikely that they would talk to Rowan. The humans of Wendlyn tolerated Fae, mostly out of necessity. They would not trust him, or deign to speak with him except for under the direst circumstance. For too long, malicious Fae had taken advantage of the mortals of Wendlyn, using their superior strength to take what they wanted with little to no consequences. While Rowan, and others among Maeve’s court, had taken it among themselves to punish such rogues, their effort had on the whole been too little, too late. It would take many more centuries for trust and camaraderie to return between the two peoples, if then.

And Rowan was hardly a mild or approachable example of his race. He was just too powerful; the mortals would likely run in the other direction if he arrived asking questions about a strange creature that was killing demi-Fae down the western coast. So he needed the girl. A mortal asking questions would be easier for them to bear, even if she was unlikely to be particularly courteous. Though she had done well with the people in the healer’s fort – perhaps a new wave of politeness and contrition would overtake the girl. Though he doubted it.

He would have to take the girl. They could camp overnight, giving her a chance to rest between journeys, but there was no way that the girl could make it without shifting. Tomorrow, Rowan would have to see if the healer’s advice had any merit.

···

Rowan didn’t bother going to the kitchens to wait for the girl that morning, instead he went straight for her rooms, carrying a small pack with overnight supplies. The princess was already gone, but she soon reappeared, still chewing her breakfast. Her eyes were brighter than usual, their golden core molten and swirling.

He held the pack open for her, “Clothes.” She grabbed an extra shirt and some underclothes from her bed and stuffed them into the pack, and Rowan shouldered it. She looked surprised at the move – perhaps she had assumed that she was to be pack mule for their journey. But Rowan wanted her in the best possible mood this morning if he was going to try to convince her to shift.

They left the fortress in silence, heading through the misty trees towards the west and out through the ward-gate. Once they passed through the invisible barrier, the magic softly pulsing over his skin, Rowan stopped. He turned to the princess, pulling off his hood and saying, “Shift, and let’s go.”

The dancing in her eyes grew even more playful, though she still did not smile. “And here I was, thinking we’d become friends.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, friends? But instead of questioning the princess, he just gestured at her to shift and said, “It’s twenty miles.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and he gave her a wicked grin in response. “We’re running. Each way.”

Although that now-familiar trepidation coursed through her scent, she didn’t give it one inch, instead saying, “And where are we going?” with exactly the usual level of insolence.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, but not at the girl’s rudeness – at the news he had to deliver. “There was another body – a demi-Fae from a neighboring fortress. Dumped in the same area, same patterns. I want to go to the nearby town to question the citizens, but …” his mouth tightened at having to admit this. “But I need your help. It’ll be easier for the mortals to talk to you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He just rolled his eyes. Rowan understood the arrogance, though he didn’t have to like it. The girl was all ego. “Shift, or it’ll take us twice as long.”

“I can’t. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t you want to see how fast you can run?” Rowan certainly did. The princess was small, but her muscles were lithe and strong. In her Fae form, she could even prove as powerful as any within Maeve’s warrior-court. And Namonora had said to motivate her to shift by aligning it with her own desires – perhaps her arrogance would prove helpful.

But instead of rising to the challenge, or even feeling some level of curiosity, the girl’s scent filled with despondence. “I can’t use my other form in Adarlan anyway, so what’s the point?”

He frowned at her. “The point is that you’re here now, and you haven’t properly tested your limits. The point is, another husk of a body was found, and I consider that to be unacceptable.”

Her scent shifted into a coppery mix of sorrow, and anger. She wasn’t heartless, surely she understood the necessity of finding the creature – perhaps he could work with that instead. Before, she had shifted to protect him from danger, to prevent his death. Maybe she could shift for the same reasons now, only without an imminent threat pressing upon them.

Rowan knew that she wasn’t scared, but still he said, “Unless you’re still frightened,” and pulled on the end of her braids. As he had suspected, the gesture pulled her anger to the surface, her nostrils flaring.

She snarled, “The only thing that frightens me is how very much I want to throttle you.”

But her anger at him had never been helpful, had only distracted her. He needed to take that anger and push it into something more productive – an anger on behalf of others instead of on behalf of herself. That could be the key.

So as that fury continued to roil and twist in her scent, Rowan said, “Hone it – the anger.” The scent of ashes and burning jasmine grew stronger by the second. “Let it be a blade, Aelin. If you cannot find the peace, then at least hone the anger that guides you to the shift. Embrace and control it – It is not your enemy.”

“This will not end well,” she breathed.

Fear began to eat away at the fury in her, but he did not let up. She was so close. “See what you want, Aelin, and seize it. Don’t ask for it; don’t wish for it. Take it.”

“I’m certain the average magic instructor would not recommend this to most people.” Her mouth was set, protesting to the last. But he could tell that she was beginning to relent – somewhere, she knew that she had to accept this part of herself, that she had no choice but to concede.

“You are not most people, and I think you like it that way. If it’s a darker set of emotions that will help you shift on command, then that’s what we’ll use. There might come a day when you find that anger doesn’t work, or when it is a crutch, but for now…” he paused. “It was the common denominator those times you shifted – anger of varying kinds. So own it.”

She looked at him for a moment, then took a long breath. And another. And another. Aelin turned deep within, anchoring herself, searching, hunting –

Then, discovery: she brushed against that shimmering veil and this time she didn’t hesitate before punching through the barrier and into her other form. Canines shot out, points grew from her ears, and a bright light flashed as she completed the shift.

Rowan couldn’t help but grin as Aelin’s scent washed over him, stronger and more familiar in this form. Jasmine and lemon verbena and dancing flames, so much more potent now than even a few moments ago.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and Rowan moved, darting to her side and pulling her braid again. She whirled, but he was already gone, pinching her other side. She yelped, “Stop – ” and he was back in front of her, a wild invitation in his eyes.

He wanted to see her move, wanted to see her run – loose and free. He could still sense the cage; it was like she’d temporarily picked a lock, the bars were still waiting for her to return into their clutches. But for now, Aelin Galathynius stared back at him, completely free for the first time since he had met her. And he wanted to play.

Rowan shot left, but before he could pinch her other side she moved, faster than ever before, and slammed down on his arm with an elbow and whacking him upside the head with her other hand.

The hit didn’t hurt, but it surprised him so much that he stopped dead, blinking in shock. Aelin’s scent filled up with satisfaction as she smirked up at him, her new fangs glinting. He bared his teeth right back at her. “Oh, you’d better run now.” And he lunged, but before he could reach her, she turned and shot through the trees to the southwest.

He followed, slow and steady, waiting for her to find her pace as she leaped over fallen logs and ducked beneath low-hanging branches. Her anger simmered away, giving over to a wild abandon as she bounded through the underbrush, her body lithe and capable and as wild as the flames that pulsed from her, barely contained by her small form.

It was so similar to exercises he had done countless times, training faceless thousands, and yet it was completely different. Before, the run had been a necessity – a way to develop strength and stamina, or a method to maintain them. Now, the run was almost…enjoyable.

The pleasure of her freedom leaked over into his own body, and he could feel the absence of Aelin’s cage almost as acutely as she could. Her newfound liberty was intoxicating, and he could feel his own walls melting, the ice leaking from his limbs as he embraced her wildness. Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to feel such freedom, the last time he smiled from enjoyment. Now he found he couldn’t turn away from it.

Quickly, too quickly, she began to speed up, getting faster and faster until they were hurtling together through the trees. Every time Rowan drew close – either to poke her or pull her braids or tackle her, he did not know – Aelin would veer away, a golden streak among the oaken boughs.

After a few minutes, they hit a plateau, the ground flattening and hardening and becoming easy beneath their feet, a welcoming carpet rolled out to greet them. And suddenly, Aelin was flying. Her hair whipped out behind her in a golden ribbon, her simple, bright clothing a streak of light and color as she sprinted over the grasses.

Gods, she was fast. Fast as any of them in their Fae forms. Rowan no longer had to alter his pace, and his limbs began to stretch, his stride lengthening until the pair of them were running together, both free and unrestrained.

Aelin dodged a tree, throwing herself between two hanging branches, and she let out a whoop of delight. Her scent began to overwhelm him, each note burning with a happiness he had never sensed in her before. It was so vibrant, so different from her usual scent, that it startled him. He hadn’t understood how angry she had always been until he finally caught a glimpse of her scent that was completely pure.

And it bit at him, ate at him, poked and prodded and stirred him until he couldn’t stop himself shooting after her, lunging with a snap of his teeth. She dodged, and he lunged again, this time moving to run at her side.

Her face was open, her eyes shining with that same feral contentment he could feel pulsing through his own veins. And it was like seeing her for the first time. He had known she was good-looking, had understood that objectively, her sharp, clear features were pretty and striking. But he had not noticed how truly attractive she was until that moment.

Aelin was beautiful.

And together they flew, silver and gold streaks piercing through the lonely mists.

···

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entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys · 3 years

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🐞A Bug🐞 Is Doomed to be a Bug 🐞

i Wonder How Hard God/Ptah face Palmed when i told Him i Wanted to be fae .... 🤦🏻‍♂️

i Know what God Was thinking . . .

... I Mean trying to Become an Insectoid SEEEEEEEEEm Like the right thing to do at the time ..... Thank God .... for Reincarnation !

Also, Thsi is Eru from lord of the ring’s in the timeless Hall’s ... BUT this also looks bey Much Like What Olympus look’s like.... that place can Shape Shit all of the fucking time.

and God Sit’s in a White Void that Glow’s Super Bright of Endless Nothingness and Everything-ness !

I’m Going right from Dragon, thsi was the Dumbest thing i ever did, the Gray’s Would of Never Got me if i Didn’t Stupidly Pick fae, THAY DIDN’T EVEN KNO I EXISTED TILL THEN 🤦🏻‍♂️

i am to Blame for all my Own Suffrage !

i Would Of Never Haft to Suffer Humanity, or thsi world or thsi Time Period or ANYTHING ... of thsi Matter if i Just Picked a different Path, Eon’s n Eon’s, Ago.

Life is Like Video game and your too ignorant for your own Good. you Pick the thing you Want to Play as the Most, but in all reality you need to Pick a different 1 ....

Bug, Was a Bad Idea, and the tall Gray’s are the Most Evil the thing in the Entire Universe ! that Almost no one on the earth is Aware of and the rest Won’t Believe you.

... i H8 My Self.

i Would of Never Of Bin to be Forced Here if it Wasn’t for Picking fae, i Could of Literally PICKED ANY ! OTHER ! RACE !!! And i Would of Had it Better off, but i Picked the Bug and Got a fate Worst then hell it self, and that i don’t even kno if it will even Be Over. ( Aka the Gray’s Coming after me After death Again )

and I’m Cursed and Haunted by Million’s n Billion of Evil Spirit’s for some Odd Reason ?

: ( . . . I’m an idiot. ...... Maybe ..... ? ................................ !

then Again, Maybe God did not face Palm at all .... but i’m Just Cursed idk, Why i got all of the Worst Luck in all of God’s Creation .... God Doesn't’ H8 me the fucker world of told me to my face ......

i fear not His Judgement ..... ( then Again How dose an Omniscient being Judge ??? )

but .... i Wonder why i Had to Suffer this ???

Why ??? Wtf did i Do to Deserve thsi fate ??? WHAT !!! ... Where ???? Da Fuq .... i Just Can’t Understand ... Why i’m SO Doomed and Cursed ?

i didn’t do Anything i Would of Remembered it in any and Many of My Life Time’s.

... Either, Way, the Gray’s forced Me to Be here .... and i Want those fucker’s to die. the Bastard Mantid’s Do Not Deserve Baby’s only the Scythe, of the Grim Reaper !

#Doomed #Cursed #???#i Wonder Why #?

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wavesofthewest · 5 years

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Chapter 3: A Clan’s Tribe

Fate: Writing

The five Tribe members were sitting around a fire, joined by members of the Clan of the Rising Tide. They had stumbled across each other while hunting for food, and the larger clan had offered the Tribe a place to stay for the night. Nobody had seen any reason to decline - and now they were engaging in conversation after a meal with everyone's preferred food types, a rarity for the guardians, meat being harder to obtain than the rest.

"It was crazy. You should have seen the look on Ab's face! It was hilarious," Sage laughed, making the fae wince.

"You don't need to remind me..."

Heaven watched her parents and Uncle Ab talk with the members of the other clan, bored. Her brother sat next to her, equally bored. They both wondered if this clan had anyone they could play with since they'd long run out of subjects to talk about and games they could play without disturbing the others. She sighed and scuffled her feet in the dirt. When would they be leaving to find a cave to sleep in?

"Oi, why don't we bug one of the grown-ups to tell us where the other kids are? They can't not have kids. C'mon, Heaven. It's better than sitting around here," her brother, Ashes, pointed out. "Otherwise I'm going to bed...but we might as well bug the grown-ups before we do that. Let's not end the day on a boring note."

"Oh, shut up, Ashes. Of course we're going to bug the grown-ups. I'm just trying to figure out who. I was thinking maybe the pink tundra over there, all on her own. What do you think?" the fae responded. In truth, she hadn't been thinking about that all, but she didn't want her brother to get the better of her. She'd just chosen a random adult from what she could see from where she sat.

"I don't care who we bother as long as it's not someone we know."

"Settled, then. Comin'?" Heaven didn't wait for a reply. She set off towards the lone dragon, not bothering to check whether or not her brother was following her. It wasn't her business.

As she came closer, the hatchlings could see that she was a gaoler, not a tundra, which explained why she was alone. As far as they knew, the gaolers were old, old dragons who came back to Sornieth recently because it was in danger. They were supposed to protect their clans and they'd often be alone so that if they were attacked, nobody else would get hurt. The two had no idea whether or not they were friendly to hatchlings - now would be the perfect time to find out.

"You're a gaoler," Ashes remarked as they came up to her. Heaven reddened, embarrassed. Why does he always have to state the obvious...

"And you're a guardian," the gaoler noted with a smile. "Your friend is - if I recall correctly - a spiral?"

"I'm. A. Fae," Heaven sighed. Others always mistook her as being another breed when they saw her with her parents. She was always a small guardian, so the gaoler’s interpretation of her being a spiral was new, but still the wrong breed.. How hard could it be to see that she was, in fact, a fae, and there was nothing to explain it other than the fact that she must have been a mistake?

"Forgive me. I'm still new to all of this, see. I was only awakened a few months ago. Anyway, is there anything you wanted?"

"Yeah, your name. And we were wondering if there were any other kids around here, 'cause we're bored and we want to play," Ashes replied, yawning. "At least until the grown-ups decide to leave."

"Oh, your tribe are staying here for the night. The other children have already gone to bed - would you like to, as well? I can see you're getting tired - you can barely keep your eyes open. As for my name? It's Secret. Could I ask yours?"

Heaven stared at the gaoler. First, she was going to refuse to tell them her name, then she demanded to know theirs? She opened her mouth to speak but Ashes cut in first, a mess of tired thinking and slurred speech. She sighed.

"Mm, yeah. I'm Ashes and my sister's Heaven. Nice to meet ya. And yeah, I wouldn't mind going to bed...I'm dead tired...actually..." The young guardian yawned again and curled up on the spot, falling asleep within a matter of seconds. Heaven watched her brother sleep for a few minutes before lying next to him, matching his rhythm as she relaxed into a slumber.

~ : ~

Secret nodded to herself as she weaved her subtle magic over the hatchlings and watched them lulled into sleep. Now she had her payment - now she had her fuel. She just had to hope her client hadn't backed out on her word during the long wait.

"Two hatchlings. They should do nicely, and if not, I can find someone willing to take them. I'm sorry, Blue, Sage, but I have to do this. I have to prioritise my clan."

She glanced over to the larger campfire, where the rest of the two clans were enjoying themselves after a good meal. The gaoler felt guilty, but she reminded herself it was for the good of her clan and strolled over to the others, listening to their conversation.

"Blue, quit it out. You're embarrassing me," Abstract laughed, swiping a paw at his best friend's shoulder. "Why don't we talk about the time Sage forgot Heaven even existed because she was too busy with Ashes and you to take account on where her other child was going?"

"But that's not the point, Ab!" Blue retaliated, gesturing wildly. "The point is that we're supposed to be telling stories of your failures so that you feel bullied and can make more epic failures to tell stories about."

"But why me? Why not you or Sage, then?" the fae shot back. The guardian sighed.

"Because I'm Tribe Leader, and Sage is my mate. Totally counts as a reason."

"Totally, Blue. Totally."

Secret smiled to herself. It’s for your clan. It’s what’s best.

#flight rising #fr #lore #tribe of clear waters #day 4 #i was out all day im so sorry for two short ones in a row ill try to do better tomorrow i swear #sleepy time #journey

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oooocleo · 4 months

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have a peep.. ill make a proper post about it when i have time, but i'm very much hoping to be able to make regular bug fae lore updates part of my patreon perks in the coming year.. i hope thats something folks are interested in! & it'll also help me make steady progress w/ it haha

#cleo talks #bug fae fate game #bug fae lore #everything i post should be considered a WIP btw #the dream tho is getting enough income from patreon to COMMISSION BUG ART!!!!!!!!!!!!!! fill a book w lore and beautiful illustrations garg

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brittysaucefanfic · 5 years

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A Fate Unclaimed

Part 17

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

Lance lands face first on concrete, but it wasn't a hard fall, so he would have been fine. But then something lands on top of him and breaks his entire body, or at least that's what it feels like to him. He groans, and tries to push the weight off, but fails because it's too heavy.

Then the weight groans.

So, apparently, he was being smushed by a person. Said person shifts, digging their elbow into his spinal cord. Lance winces and turns his face to look at the person crushing him face first on concrete. Lance wants to scream when he sees a familiar mullet.

Apparently he was being smushed by Keith.

"Great, no wonder you were so heavy, one of your lookie loo pals tagged along." A voice says, and Lance looks up to see Macaria glaring down at him. Keith finally manages to get off him, and then puts his fists up. But he's shaky, like he's going to throw up. Lance hauls himself up with a hiss, knowing he's probably going to have a bruise where Keith elbowed him.

"What the hell?" Lance says, which, yes, probably isn't the best thing to say right off the bat when someone zaps you with a bunch of shadows. Way to try to piss off the scary demigod lady Lance. Macaria, however, just sighs at him. Which, weird, but at least it isn't being zapped again. His stomach rolls as he makes it to his feet at last.

"Where are we?" Keith continues, edging in front of Lance. "Where's our friends? What do you want with Lance?"

Lance lets Keith do his thing while he gathers his bearings. They're in some sort of concrete alleyway, just far enough in that he can barely hear cars, and he can't immediately find the exit. It's a clean alley though, or cleaner than one would expect. A little ways to the right, behind Macaria, is a metal door with the symbol of Hermes painted in gold.

For some reason Lance really wants in that door.

This, however, is a much weaker pull, so he can ignore it like it's nothing but an annoying bug. Lance turns back to Macaria, noticing his entire body was hidden behind Keith's in his distraction. And wow, muscles.

"We are just down the street from your friends, who are still in front of the door to Hell, and all I want to do is talk. Now move so I can do just that." She says, her tone bordering between exasperated and annoyed. Lance bites his lip, thinking about what he should do. He comes to a conclusion the moment he and Macaria lock eyes again.

Lance shoves Keith lightly out of the way.

"The glow." Lance says, his voice staying even for once. "I want to know what it is. But I want to have all of my friends here, just in case." Just in case you're a psycho.

Macaria thinks for a moment, giving Keith time to glare at Lance as he saves himself from hitting concrete. Lance ignores him, watching Macaria's face fall into resignation.

"Fine." She says, then snaps her fingers. All of a sudden there's three loud thumps behind them. He turns around and winces at what he sees. Poor Pidge ate concrete first.

"Help," Pidge wheezes out, reaching forward. "Me."

Lance isn't sure if he should feel sorry or feel amused. Both maybe. Keith rushes to Shiro, who drew the big straw and landed on top of the demigod dog pile. When Shiro and Hunk are off of Pidge she lays there groaning for a moment. Neither of the two who squished her look all that apologetic.

"You coming child?" Macaria says, her voice further away. When Lance turns around he sees her at the door he wanted to enter. The one with the symbol of Hermes. Could Hermes be his father? Maybe that's why he feels compelled. But then again, he's also compelled to Shiro, Allura and Macaria.

This is getting confusing.

Macaria opens the door a little, just enough for rock music to fill the allyway. When she raises an eyebrow at him beneath her sunglasses he's suddenly moving, no longer fighting the pull he has.

"Lance, wait-" Shiro calls out behind him. But it's too late, he's already walking through the doorway. He isn't sure what he's expecting to see once he passes the barrier, because there is one. The same type like the one at camp, but not quite as powerful. He isn't sure if he was expecting a club, or a trap house, or a door to Hell.

The lights inside are dim, easy on the eyes, but it isn't dark. The walls are smooth stone, with etched symbols like the ones he remembers seeing one of the Hecate cabin residents drawing in the sand. The walls encase a very large room, larger than what seems possible. On the edges of the room are simple wooden tables like one would see in an old timey tavern, except weirder.

Tables for two, tables for large groups, very tall tables with large chairs, small tables like it would be for a kid. The middle of the large room was open floor, with a white painted square on the stone. A dance floor maybe? At the very back of the room is a bar of smooth polished granite, and tv's hung on the wall above the shelves of liqueur and liquids. Hidden in the far left corner is a staircase with a body guard.

The tavern/bar/club isn't full, but it's crowded.

Most of them seem to be demigods. Or maybe just powerful beings, because everytime he looks at a person his vision flashes with gold. Some of it is muted, like usual, some of it are as blinding as Macaria's, and some of it are less gold and more of different colors. Red, white, black, pink. It's kind of dizzying.

"Follow me child." Macaria says and Lance faces her with a scowl.

"I have a name you know." He says, but he almost can't hear himself over the noise of the tavern/bar/club type place he's in.

"One which I have not been formally introduced, so I may call you child until you give me your name properly." She says, her voice floating over the crowd as she walks away. Lance is reminded of his grandmother's fairytales when he was young. Of the Fae, and the mind games they play to get what they want. Of how you always had to say things a certain way, like how you will not give them your name, but you can tell them.

Does that apply in this situation?

He spent so much time pondering, he almost misses Macaria slipping past the body guard at the stairs. He doesn't miss the flirty smile they share though, which is interesting.

"Lance!" Shiro says behind him. He turns to him, and gives him a patented 'Guilty Lance Smile'. Almost always gets him out of trouble. Or it does with Coran at least.

Shiro doesn't look mad though, only Keith really has that look, but his face has been twisted like that since they were five. They're all grouped just inside the door like a pack of terrified puppies. Lance looks back at the staircase, seeing the bodyguard staring at him. It seems like he's expecting Lance to follow Macaria, which yeah he's definitely doing.

Lance doesn't wait for his friends to follow before he marches up to the bodyguard.

The bodyguard looks inhumanly handsome up close, but in that burly biker dude sort of way. Sharp golden eyes, like one of Macaria's. The golden eyed man steps aside without even trying to stop Lance. There's footsteps behind him when he starts climbing the stairs, and Lance glances down to see his friends. Shiro looks like he's saying something, but the words fall on deaf ears.

Lance can't understand a word he's saying.

Perhaps that should have alarmed him, the fact that his friends were speaking in muted gibberish. But it doesn't. He just continues taking the stairs by two. At the top of the stairs is a hallway, a long one that curves at the end of Lance's line of sight. And all along the hallway walls are doors of every nature.

Some doors are tall enough to fit a bulldozer. Others barely big enough to fit a child. Some doors are wooden, some metal. Some look like they could collapse with a single touch, others aren't even doors at all. Those would include turnstiles, old western swing doors you see in the movies, a stack of streamers that shift with his footsteps.

Lance feels like he just walked into a weird version of Alice in Wonderland.

He isn't sure where he's going, or which door he should enter, so he just keeps walking. He doesn't stop until he hears Macaria whistle at him. Lance turns back to his friends, who are way too far behind him. They rush to him once he stops, and Keith starts mumbling that muted gibberish. He feels like he should know what Keith is trying to say but he doesn't. This is almost like when his family would speak Spanish around him just after the adoption.

His attention is pulled away once again by Macaria's sharp whistle.

Lance walks into a room, through a normal looking door and into an office like area. Macaria sits at a round table, the only furniture in the room other than the chairs. It makes him curious to where she got the cup of coffee. She's relaxed, twisting one of those golden locks around her finger.

Her sunglasses are pushed on top of her head, pushing back her hair to show a tattoo on the side of her neck. It looks like an oraborous, an intricate one that connects to another tattoo beneath her collar.

Lance takes a seat directly across from Macaria.

His friends are slow to enter the room, let alone sit down. And Shiro looks worried. Weird, that's Hunk's job. Lance's attention refocuses on Macaria at the sound of her cup being set down.

"No worries, we can talk in private now. Your friends can't understand a word we're saying." Macaria says. The end of her sentence curls, like it's just barely peeking into another language, except she didn't say anything in a different language. He just has the feeling like she did. Lance drags his eyes over to Shiro, who's muttering in gibberish again.

Shiro looks tense, his eyes begging Lance to listen to him. His mouth is moving again, and Lance vaguely recognizes the English word 'leave' forming on Shiro's lips. If he strained real hard, he could probably hear it too. Lance is caught in the realization of just how powerful Macaria is all over again.

Who is this woman?

******

This is done on my phone, and I can't sit at my computer to fix the links yet, so just bare with me!

Edit: Links are fixed!

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

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floridaanime · 7 years

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GUEST: Cristina Vee, the voice of Homura Akemi in Madoka Magica, is coming to FAE 2017 next month!

Cristina Vee is a voice actress from Los Angeles, CA. Since getting her first large anime roles in 2007, Cristina has voiced over 100 characters in both animation and video games. Anime fans know her Mio Akiyama in K-ON!, Alisa Bosconovitch in Tekken Blood Vengeance, Homura Akemi in Madoka Magica, Morgiana in Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, the eleven Honoka sisters in Netflix’s Knights of Sidonia, Cubone (and others) in Pokemon Origins and Riruka Dokugamine in Bleach. She was recently announced as the new voice of Sailor Mars in her favorite show, Sailor Moon! She voices Nickelodeon’s Lady Bug from Miraculous: Tales of ladybug and Cat Noir. Hawk from Seven Deadly Sins is also a character Cristina voices. She makes appearances in Sword Art Online, Kill la Kill, Fate/Zero, Doraemon, Accel World, and Squid Girl.

On the video game scene she is popular for her voice work as Noel Vermillion and the Murakumo Units in the Blazblue series, Compa in the Neptunia series, Lian Shi in Dynasty Warriors, Cerebella in Skullgirls, Riven the Exile in League of Legends, Nova in Tales of Xillia 2 (pay your debt!), Shantae in Shantae and the Pirate’s Curse and Half-Genie Hero, Four in Drakengard 3, Karna and Bami in Ys: Memories of Celceta, Serina in Conception 2, and Cinque in Final Fantasy Type-0.

Beyond voice acting she has a large YouTube following for her singing. She provides vocals to songs in Adventure Time: Hey Ice King! Why’d You Steal Our Garbage!? and Shantae: Half Genie Hero. She currently casts and directs Skullgirls and is recognizable to eSports fans for hosting IGN’s IPL 4 and 5.

All Florida Anime Experience Guests sign autographs free of charge. Fees may apply for purchasing photos, etc.

via the Florida Anime Experience website: http://www.floridaanime.com/archives/3825

#Florida Anime Experience #anime convention #anime #cosplay #Orlando #Florida

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 1)

Note: The following is an experiment in a spontaneously written fanfic. It will likely never be finished and is just being done for fun, and to give this blog a bit of a revival.

The wind that takes your last breath.

The blur you see before your eyes close for the last time.

The caretaker of Nature’s delicate balance, the whisperer in the ear of all great mortals who thought themselves divine, the death knell of all that ever lived:

The Keeper of the Grove.

Weiss had heard all of the stories, seen the art, the plays inspired by her--it was impossible not to, seeing as the twin peaks of the Viridian Valley always loomed over the horizon. Candela may have prided itself as the realm’s capital of Science, Technology, and Reason, but it would seem that even the most faithless and coldly logical people of Avalon could not resist the allure of a good yarn.

She had always thought the Keeper moronic, the stuff of fireside tales told to gullible children, fiction invented by hunters and adventurers returning to town with no game and wounded egos.

Now, with her cadre of elite bodyguards all lying on the ground unconscious, holding bleeding gashes, or nursing slashed wrists; their weapons sliced apart or rendered useless; and her back to a copse of trees perfectly shaped for cornering prey, Weiss realized that the Keeper was real.

All too real.

With nothing else to do except await her inevitable execution, Weiss decided to get a good look at her.

She was smaller than she expected.

Much smaller.

The stories always depicted her as looming several times larger than that of a fully-grown man, the shadow she cast stretching far past the fools and fortune seekers who dared trespass her land, a wicked figure with long, gnarled limbs, perfect for bounding after prey and catching them just before they broke out of the trees and to safety.

But the figure in front of her? She looked more like a little girl, barely older than 10, if she went by human standards.

And she did not look nearly as terrifying. The artists and tapestry weavers always made sure to pay special, loving attention to the Keeper’s visage, a hideous creature, like the bastard child of a rat, a deer, and a wolf; she had jaws perpetually slavering, fangs dripping with fresh blood and the remains of her latest victim, and yet more viscera proudly hanging from her twisted horns if they were feeling particularly gruesome. And if there was one thing they always made sure to keep, however simplified and caricatured the image, it was her eyes:

Glowing red orbs that pierced into your own, into your soul.

Weiss could see nothing even remotely suggesting something as vicious, even if the hood pulled over her face and the angle of the moonlight hid her features.

The one thing that they did get right was her scythe: a massive, ancient branch, gnarled and twisted, yet also meticulously sanded and shaped, stretching far above the Keeper’s head, with a wicked curved blade that glinted in the moonlight, looking not unlike a serial killer about to enjoy killing you for a long, long time.

Weiss wasn’t looking forward to knowing how exactly it felt like to get killed by it--if the stories were anything to go by, it only hurt if you were hit by a glancing blow or the Keeper intentionally missed.

That it felt like “having a piece of your soul ripped apart, little by little” was not a comforting thought, however.

The Keeper raised her weapon up into the air, the blade catching the light of the moon, glowing so brightly Weiss had to shield her eyes.

In that moment, she prayed to whatever deities were listening, hoping that they would find some way to tell Winter how much she loved her, how thankful she was for everything she’s done, and also that their father was an asshole and she would never, ever love him, even in death.

Thunk.

Weiss waited for the whoosh through the air, the brief pain of cold steel on warm flesh, whatever waited for her in the Aether, if it really did exist.

“Hi!” she heard a young, chipper voice say. “I realize this is going to sound really weird and make you super suspicious, since I just creamed your guards and all, but: could you open your eyes? It feels really weird talking to you while you’ve got them squeezed shut like that.”

Weiss reluctantly obeyed. The scythe was no longer raised up in the air; instead, it was planted firmly on the ground, blunt-end first. The Keeper was still looming in front of her, but her hood was down. She looked as young as she sounded, and infinitely more harmless and friendly than even the most sympathetic depictions Weiss had seen.

“Thanks~” the Keeper said, the deer ears sprouting from her almost-completely human head twitching happily. “Look, I understand that you humans are always looking for more resources and power to grow even bigger, make more cool stuff, and feed your kids and keep the lights on in your cities on...”

“... But we Fae also REALLY like not being killed, not having our home set on fire or flattened, not having our entire culture and history erased just like that--you know, things you humans don’t like having done to you, too.

“So, if you could just promise you’ll leave, and tell whoever started this expedition to never come back, I won’t have to kill every single one of you.”

The Keeper smiled and held out her free hand.

Fleshy, soft, and with four fingers and a thumb.

Nothing even remotely close to the wicked, razor sharp claws of legend.

And really, just like Weiss’ own hand.

“Deal?” the Keeper asked, still smiling.

Weiss stared at her hand for a long, long time. Her eyes strayed to the guards--gathered around her crashed carriage, unarmed or crippled, looking helplessly at her and the Keeper.

“Some of the best of the best,” her father had told her as they walked in between their two lines, every soldier standing at attention in perfect, precise angles. “Few can stand against their might, and in the unlikely event that they face a foe they can not crush like a bug, know that they are more than ready to lay their lives down to ensure your safety.”

Her father saw them as tools, assets, numbers on a spending report, certainly a bother if they happened to be killed, but not an amount he couldn’t recoup in time, and for sure there was another elite guard waiting to replace them.

Weiss saw them for what they were: men and women who earned their living through bloodshed and violence, some with families, some with lovers, all of them with plenty more fight left in them, if they didn’t throw it away for some stupid cause--or someone else sealed their fate for them.

She was hesitant to shake her hand, partly because of the events that had just transpired, mostly because it was also covered in mud, sap, grass, and fresh blood.

But it was either needing to wash her hands for hours after she got back to civilization, or forfeiting all of their lives for her father’s escapades, and her own foolishness.

“Deal,” Weiss said as she took it.

The Keeper smiled as they shook. “Great!” She pulled her hand back, stuck her fingers into her mouth, and whistled. “Get them out of here, everyone!” she cried.

Weiss and her guards flinched as the nearby bushes and the branches all rustled and shook. Some of them screamed as more humanoid creatures like the Keeper swarmed around the carriage, pushed it back upright from sheer force of numbers before some of them went to work on the engine and the chassis, and the rest loomed intimidatingly over the guards, as if they were daring them to just try and make one final stand, see how well that works out for them.

Mere minutes later, Weiss was back in the carriage, now much less roomy and spacious that she was sharing it with the worst injured of the guards--thankfully still alive, even if their futures as mercenaries dubious if they didn’t get proper medical attention soon. The rest rode on the roof or walked alongside it, making notes to themselves to never accept a job in the Viridian Valley ever again, and to demand vastly increased hazard pay.

In the stories, anyone foolish enough to make a deal with the Keeper of the Grove was only delaying the inevitable and dragging more unfortunate souls down with them when their time came, making an already bad situation worse through their own greed and self-interest.

But then again, those same stories also assumed that the Keeper was fiction, a myth, and probably some vicious pack of wolves than an actual, living, breathing being.

Weiss dearly hoped that wasn’t the only thing they’d gotten wrong.

#white rose #rwby #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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archonreviews · 7 years

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The Archon’s Review of King Arthur: A Roleplaying Wargame

King Arthur: A Rolplaying Wargame is a grand strategy game designed by NeocoreGames and published by Paradox Interactive. It is a dark time in Britannia. The king, Uther Pendragon, has died, leaving no apparent heir. In the wake of this power vacuum, all the petty kings of the realm have taken up arms against their neighbors in a bid for power and land. Then, Merlin appears with the sword, Excalibur, lodged in a stone in the abbey at Glastonbury. He says his piece, and then Arthur appears out of nowhere to do his thing. Except, when Arthur extricates the sword from the stone, magic returns to Britannia, Merlin disappears, and the Sidhe, the ancient fae, assert themselves, carving out a territory in the Bedegraine forest, just south of Hadrain’s Wall. Britannia is now on the brink of grandiose conflict, and you, as Arthur, the Once and Future King, must decide its fate.

I picked up KAaRPWG mostly on a whim, but I must say that, for the most part, it paid off.There is a lot to like here; although my expectations were not all that high, I was pleasantly surprised.

Let’s start with the lore. If you’re a purist when it comes to Arthurian legends, you may be a bit disappointed. KAaRPWG melds Arthurian legends with a healthy does of Celtic and Irish mythology. You’ve got the sword in the stone (Excalibur in this version, not Caliburn), the Green Knight, all the Knights of the Round Table, the Holy Grail, etc. You’ve also got the Sidhe, the distinction between Seelie and Unseelie fae, the Old Faith of the druids, and a belief in magic, all of which is inspired by old Celtic and Irish myths. The two mythoi actually blend quite well; this is probably the result of a singular aesthetic acting as a very effective backdrop for both sets of myths. There’s a sense here of a blending of time and space, wherein armored knights on horseback seem natural next to the mystical and strange Sidhe. References to the ancient Roman colonies that used to be on Britannia help complete the blend, creating a sense of a far distant past brought temporally forward to scrunch it up against the medieval knights and kingdoms of Britannia. But the Roman stuff works because the ancient, “Old Faith” aesthetic helps place us there temporally. Basically, what I’m trying, and probably failing to say, is that each element of the aesthetic and lore helps hold the others up so that when blended, they fit together perfectly.

^(The Once and Future King, just before everything goes downhill)^

The overworld map is very pretty, although a bit monotone. As we are in Britannia, we can expect mostly forests and grass lands, with rolling hills and a mountain here and there. I had a similar complaint about Eador. Genesis, but this game breaks up the monotony with a quartet of seasons, which pass one by one each turn. I really like the seasons system, and not merely because it adds snow during winter. See, each season actually does something. It’s not just cosmetic, and it’s details like this that really makes me appreciate a game. Dominions 4 and Endless Legend do something similar, but it’s not quite as strategic as it is in this. The year begins in Spring, which is when random quests and disasters appear on the campaign map, which you can then react to by sending your armies to deal with them. During Summer, armies are able to move much farther on the campaign map. The game says that Autumn is when your food comes in, but I don’t think that’s actually the case. Winter does a number of things. First, Winter forces all armies on the overworld to stop and set up camp. No armies can move during Winter. Second, Winter is when your taxes come in, and this is also when your food comes in, possibly because of a bug. Lastly, Winter is when you can interact with your stronghold(s), building new districts, researching new improvements for your kingdom, and managing your economy via the Chancellory, where you enact new laws, set decrees, and trade food for gold and vice versa. Then Spring rolls back around and new random quests appear. The seasons system is a really great way of marrying form and function, and I think it’s pretty neato.

Now, this is a strategy game, and strategy games tend to have playable battles where you can exercise that big ol’ brain of yours. And the combat in this game, well... it’s basically Total War. NOW THIS SENTENCE RIGHT HERE IS FOR ANY LAWYERS THAT HAPPEN TO BE READING; DO NOT TAKE THIS PARAGRAPH OR THIS REVIEW AND USE IT AS A MEANS FOR LITIGATION. I WILL BE VERY CROSS WITH YOU IF I HAPPEN TO FIND OUT THAT ANYONE WAS SUCCESSFULLY SUED BECAUSE OF WHAT I JUST WROTE HERE. LAWYERS, DO NOT USE OR MENTION THIS REVIEW. Right, now that that’s over with; yeah, the gameplay is basically magical Medieval:Total War. You take battalions of troops, march them around the field of battle, and use strategy and tactics to win. Hero characters, such as the Knights of the Round Table, have magical abilities you can call upon to turn the tide of battle, which is a neat addition. Also, individual units don’t have morale, unlike in a Total War game; instead, each side has a morale bar that increases or decreases depending on which side controls victory locations. These locations are things like monuments, stone circles, villages, keeps, ect. Another departure from Total War that I like is that once you’ve won a battle, the enemy army goes away entirely, even if you won via morale rather than extermination. This makes it so that you needn’t chase enemies down across the map after each battle like roaches in a kitchen

^(The first battle in the game. My troops are the ones in armor. Winning!)^

In between battles are quests. As mentioned, some are random, appearing during the spring season. The important ones, however, are related to the plot of the game. These are things like finding and hiring on a Knight of the Round Table, or determining whether the Old Faith or Christianity gains more power, or finding special artifacts. All quests, random and plot-relevant, are carried out via text-based decision trees. Some choices use one or more of a hero’s stats. In these cases, the text will be green if it’s a certain success, blue if the outcome is uncertain, or red if it’s a certain failure. This incentivizes you to have a variety of heroes on hand. It’s a bit of a problem if you need a mageknight and all you have are fightknights. The outcome of quests has various effects, such as gaining you artifacts, changing your morality, giving you more troops, or provoking a battle.

^(One of the early quests. Sir Kay here did a bang-up job of it.)^

I alluded to a morality system in the above paragraph, and this game has not a binary moral choice system, but a quaternary moral choice system. See, in the wake of Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, magic returns to Britannia, leading to a resurgence of what they call the “Old Faith”, which is worship of the Tuatha de Danaan, the old Irish deities. This causes friction between the believers in this Old Faith, and the followers of the still-new Christianity. Interesting sidenote: In the game, the Welsh are followers of the Old Faith, while the Saxons are the Christian invaders. But in real life, the Welsh had already been Christianized by Saint Joseph of Arimathea and the Irish by Saint Patrick, while the Saxons were so incredibly pagan that Charlemagne felt the need to deliver them the Cross via the sword. In addition to the religious conflict, there’s a virtue axis, each end of which is labeled “Rightful” and “Tyrant”. The game makes a point of stating that Rightful isn’t necessarily good and Tyrant isn’t necessarily evil, and that the axis is meant to measure your commitment to the ideals of chivalry. Although, in practice, benevolent acts increase your Rightful gauge, while malevolent acts do the opposite. Going toward one combination of religion and virtue is advised, as you get new spells, bonuses, and unit choices for doing so, and I also imagine it affects what ending you get.

^(The morality chart. Fun fact, the terms the game uses for Rightful-Old Faith and Tyrant-Old Faith are Seelie and Unseelie respectively. This means that from a religious standpoint, there’s actually three sides you can choose from, Christian, Seelie, and Unseelie. I guess Christianity doesn’t care whether you’re a moral person...?)^

Now, the things I talked about are all very effective and fun, and I like them a lot. But here comes the problems are there are a few. First off, the game is hilariously unstable, especially the further you are into it. The most common bug I found was the game giving me a “Runtime error” during loading screens and crashing to desktop. Sometimes the game even just cuts out after the loading screen, but just after I unpause the game to start a battle, dumping me straight to the desktop. I even encountered a really weird bug where, when I reloaded a save, there was snow on the ground even though it was autumn, and after I hit the “next turn” button, I was prevented from opening the menu to save or quit, and I couldn’t end the turn again. I was stuck in perpetual winter. I mean, I know the Starks were all like “Winter is coming” but I didn’t think it’d stay forever. In fact, these glitches came up so often that I actually did make a print screen and paste it into paint; you remember, the thing I said I wasn’t gonna do in my Fallout 2 review.

^(Fun fact: when I inserted this image, it kept flickering for a second or two before it settled. Hopefully it’s not cursed.)^

Also, the AI isn’t particularly engaging. With a little bit of strategy and good judgement, it’s possible to win a battle with a force half as powerful as your enemy’s. This isn’t to say that the battles aren’t fun or that there isn’t any risk involved, but just that the AI isn’t as amazing as one might desire out of their grand strategy experience.

The game is really bad at telling you how to get plot quests to appear. You get hand-held through the first set of plot quests; the first book, as the game calls it. But then, things just sort of happen. And eventually, you start coming up on quests from books three and four just because... enough time has passed? That would be my guess anyway. Eventually, I did figure out how to get the quests to appear, but it didn’t feel like a natural story progression. A few pro-tips in the plot quest department: First, conquering territory gets the quests from book two to appear. I’d suggest trying to take the Mercias (There are two, East Mercia and West Mercia), and any small kingdoms you may have left. Second, do not conquer Wales or the Saxons; they’re quest-important. Lastly, around turn 150, something really important happens, so get the quest “The Vision” finished up by then.

One last thing that really bugged me. There’s no way to tell what your income is until winter time, so you have to make absolutely sure that everything in your economy is squared away by then or else you might find yourself up a creek.

ለማገባደድ, despite the bugs, I would absolutely recommend King Arthur: A Roleplaying Wargame to anyone who’s into fantasy, Arthurian legend, grand strategy, or swords and sorcery type stories. It’s got a lot to like, and a lot of really neat ideas and aesthetics. I am probably totally going to keep playing it, at least to the regular campaign’s conclusion. Now, this being a game taking place in the early Middle Ages, there are instances of arranged marriages, with you deciding which maidens marry which knights. There is something to be said about how doing so improves the knights’ abilities, basically turning them into stat boosting objects, but this is justified somewhat in that the attributes that boost stats are personality traits, and it would make sense for a person to be influenced by a person they spend a lot of time with. What is perhaps more disturbing when one gets into fridge logic, is that these maidens can be bartered to certain groups on the map, such as rebels or mercenary groups. The game wants you to believe that you’re arranging marriages between the rebel leaders and your maidens, but because doing so makes use of the same interface as bartering artifacts or gold, it really presents the unfortunate implication that you may be selling these women into slavery. Is that what’s really going on? Prrrobably not, but once the whole “slavery” possibility occurred to me, it wouldn’t be shaken. Really, the sexism problems this game has are the same ones that plague any game that takes place in Medieval times, and the same ones that plagued Medieval times (the time period, not the restaurant). Although, it is weird that each of the female heroes have an ability that gives them a stat boost in return for being prohibited from riding horses... Yeah, I thought that was weird.

^(One of the Sihde, on the right, compared to a group of puny mortals on the left. Like, dang. Why haven’t those guys taken over Britannia on their own?)^

#archon reviews #review #video games #king arthur: a roleplaying wargame #king arthur #fantasy #grand strategy

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years

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4. What is their most embarrassing memory? 17. What are they like when they’re drunk? 20. Fears? 21. Favorite kind of weather? 22. Favorite color? 23. Do they collect anything? 61. When bored, how do they pass time? 78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? For: Odina, Tamm, Wicke, Tionishia, Centorea, 18, 21 and Mama Defleni.

under read more because it got kinda long

4. most embarassing memory

Odina: Shit. Thisone time, uh. This one time, i was in the same room as one of thoseinfinite magic creating generators they dig up from time to time. Andyeah, me? And something with limitless magic? My ass got so huge itswelled up and got me stuck, right in a doorway. I was trapped therefor HOURS. Some shithead used me for furniture, they sat on my buttand slept there! God… so mortifiying.

Tamm: In my earlydays of learning to take on a bird form, I got lost in the body. Abody you take does have its own instincts and it can overwhelm yourmind; some take on a new form and it takes their mind, and theyforget who they are, becoming just another creature with faintmemories of someone who is gone now. Fortunately I didn’t go thatfar, but I did wind up eating carrion and little bugs. Theembarassing bit? A student saw me do it, and never let me forget…!

Wicke: OnceLusamine and I wore matching uniforms, along with our assistants, topresent the image of a united group to our backers, this being beforethe Aether Foundation became a distinct organization, mind you! Theproblem is, the tailors weren’t given my own… extreme…dimensions in mind and the hips were far too small! The skirt justshredded when i tried to walk; I had to spend all day trying to avoida wardrobe failure and I just know they noticed…!

Tionishia: I oncehad a human boyfriend and I greeted him with a hug so tight he… ah,had some back trouble. It was so embarassign! I learned the hard waythat humans are rather fragile, you know?

Centorea: As youknow, things around here tend to get more than a little odd with thetransformations. The first time I grew a few extra set of breasts onmy horse section, rather like an udder I suppose, I got… verymilky. And sensitive. And unfortunately I sat down on my speciallyadapted couch but didn’t realize someone was on it, and thatsomeone was Suu. There were complications but a long story short, aLOT of milk flooded everywhere and then right into her; she gotkaiju-sized and we had a DEVIL of a time calming her down…! Ugh.How dreadful.

Android 18: I gotsome energy absorbing relay coils installed and I dared Krillin totest them out with some ki projectile fastball. I caught ‘em, yeah.Not so good at the CONTROLLING the blasts thing. Accidentally losthold of the things and blew a huge hole in our house. Ugh, lookinglike a loser in front of your cute, tiny husband… awful.

Android 21: Ionce turned all of the planet Jupiter into a giant chocolate ball. Iwas AIMING for an asteroid, but, well, my aim isn’t always perfect!And of course, so much tasty sweetness got me hungry and I would haveeaten it all if I hadn’t been stopped…! As it is, well, now thereare more than one gaps in it.

Mama Defleini: Afriend hugged me from behind when I wasn’t expecting it and…well, I gushed ink EVERYWHERE. Milk ink, at that, over the entireauditorium. And since I was playing on a band at the time, there isphotographic evidence. Tends to come up when I am trying to beserious, which is not at all helpful!

17. What are theylike when they’re drunk?

Odina:Surprisingly mellow, a bit passive, but even more of a stone wallthan usual. Tends to just ignore everything.

Tamm: Very much abit of a chatterbox!

Wicke: Extremelysweet and affectionate, tries to be helpful and often just falls onyou.

Tionishia: Veryhuggy; this is both dangerous from her immense strength, and comfy,because at least her massive bust is soft!

Centorea: Becomesunexpectedly gloomy, but swings into happy mode for no apparentreason.

Android 18: Angrydrunk, MEAN drunk. She will fight you for looking in her generaldirection, or breathing near her and sucking up her air. She willfight you and it will hurt.

Android 21:Becomes very hungry and eats random stuff; will start chewing ontables and gets really sleepy, really fast.

Mama Defleini:Not really any change at all, but she becomes a bit more talkativethan normal.

20. Fears?

Odina: Shequietly dreads that, one day, she’ll turn on her magical powers andit won’t turn off; she’ll keep draining and growing without beingable to stop it. She’s also scared of getting caught up insomething that’ll go VERY badly for her, and get her killed orworse.

Tamm: Herdaughter killing her, again. Alternatively, she dreads the return ofthe loathsome True Fae from their mysterious realm, for when theycome, they will leave nothing behind.

Wicke: Beinghelpless to stop something truly evil and wretched, or worse, beingcomplicit in it. She dreads her own potential passivity.

Tionishia: Herimmense strength killing a human, or similar species. Just hug sohard, and then hear a horrible little snap. And then, blood onher arms, and a death on her hands.

Centorea: Failureto uphold her duties, so that her lord and her family dies on herwatch. More than that, she fears failing to uphold her oaths and thatshe may act in a dishonorable way, shaming herself irredeemably.

Android 18:Becoming destitute and homeless again, and worse, dooming her familyto the same fate. She would do anything rather than suffer such adoom, and it motivates her to some ruthless acts.

Android 21:Losing control of herself, and becoming a mindlessly gluttonous andcruel monster that would devour her own children, friends and alliesjust to slake the fiend she has become. She dreads the multiversebeing broken by her appetite.

Mama Defleini:She speaks little of her own fears. But in the depths, she has knownthat SOMETHING is coming, however distant, and she hears the echos ofsomething vast and indifferent to mortal suffering, and it is coming.She fears, more than anything, that the ages will come and destroyall that she has built… and worse, that she can do nothing to stopit.

21. Favorite kindof weather?

Odina: “I likeit rainy, a bit stormy. Feels good, you know?”

Tamm: “As longas it is wet, I enjoy it. Heavy rain is my preferred sort.”

Wicke: “I loveit sunny, more than anything! GIve me open sun and strong light!”

Tionishia:“Strong winds, and cool, dampness.”

Centorea: “Iprefer my days a bit cloudy, to be honest.”

Android 18:“Overcast. When it’s sunny, it’s too hot. Rain is not fun,either. Snow’s the worst. That shit can kill you.”

Android 21: “Idon’t have a preference, honestly! I like it cool, but that mayjust be my body; easier to hold myself together, and it’s not thatmuch of a fondness.”

Mama Defleini:“Mist and cool weathers please me the most.”

22. Favoritecolor?

Odina: “Red, Iguess?”

Tamm: “Purplesare lovely!”

Wicke: “I lovepink! It’s my favorite.”

Tionishia:“Yellows look cute and heroic!”

Centorea: “Ilean towards blues, I suppose!”

Android 18:“Black.”

Android 21: “Ido love greens.”

Mama Defleini:“Magenta, dear. Can’t you tell?” (Rubs her tentaclesaffectionately)

23. Do theycollect anything?

Odina: Collectsvideo games, preferably ones that are a bit more obscure or havegenres unknown in the modern day.

Tamm: Likes tocollect little knick-knacks and enchant them; her chambers andworkplaces resemble a witch’s cottage mixed with a magpie nest.

Wicke: Herfriends joke she gets younger boyfriends. She generally collectsplush toys of all sorts, ranging from obscure toylines to variationsof a given model, and takes pleasure in organizing them to the minutedetail.

Tionishia: Cuteaccesories and fancy hats!

Centorea:Collections of medieval books, old lore, and Arthurian legendry fromover the ages.

Android 18:Books. Until recently they were a luxury for her; they’reexpensive, difficult to carry on the go, and require careful keeping,so she was unable to have any until she and her brother came to theattention of the Red Ribbon army. Now she takes pride in being ableto get as many as she wants.

Android 21: Worksby influential figures she respects; also comic books and manga ofall kinds! She prefers lighthearted and jokey things instead of moregrim or serious material.

Mama Defleini:Apparently, ships. Not model ships or toys; ACTUAL ships. Presumablysome of these are relics from her time as the Kraken of legend, butshe’s diversified into spaceships in the here and now.

61. When bored,how do they pass the time?

Odina: “I liketo read. And enjoy the boredom; it don’t last long, usually.”

Tamm:“Birdwatching is usually a fine hobby to pass the time.”

Wicke: “I liketo take naps, dear! Or perhaps watch some television.”

Tionishia: “Iplay with the local pets; with the people we associate with, there’splenty to find!”

Centorea: “Iwork out! A knight must always refine her body, for it is her finesttool!”

Android 18:“Watch TV, I guess.”

Android 21: “Iread as well!”

Mama Defleini:“Painting, usually of visions I experience or of the unreal imageryI am heir to. It tends to give mortals headache to look at them, butI think they’re pretty.”

78. How do theyact when particularly happy?

Odina: Verymellow; tihs ia clue in itself, as she is normally very guarded andgrim. Any sign of happiness at all is a pretty damn big deal!

Tamm: Softsmiles, gentle asides, ocassionally some faint noises that sound abit like pleased chirps. She’s not too demonstrative of herfeelings.

Wicke:Ebulliently cheerful, almost radiant! She becomes a beacon ofemotional light!

Tionishia:Extremely huggy, to the point that her grasp over how much strongershe is becomes looser than usual, and spines are put to GREAT stresesfrom her hugs. From her arm strength, and her massive boobs; theymight be soft and milky but they’re also EXTREMELY heavy

Centorea: shetries to be tactiturn, in the image of the unflappable knight, butwhen super happy, she ironically acts more like the lady of a courtlyromance; flushng over small feelings, beaming brightly, and speakingin poetic phrase. It’s noticable since usually she IS somewhatstoic.

Android 18: whenhappy, she tends to loosen up a lot; she leans back, probably plopsinto a couch (possibly breaking it) and gets friends/family inaffectionate headlocks. Her happy tends to have a bit of the ‘flirtygirl bully’ vibe.

Android 21: Itcan honestly be difficult to tell, as she doesn’t act TOOdifferently from how she mght otherwise, but she acts a lot like herrobot son Android 16, whose core personality was her biological son;she gets a little more open, more expressive, and she doesn’t seemso closed off.

Mama Defleini: Ingeneral she affects an air of genteel cheeriness; there’s not a lotof interplay between her moods of ‘not super happy’ and‘genuinely super happy’. When she’s sincerely happy, though,she gets very warm and easy going, and parts of her body becoming abit more ink-goo than normal. She literally loosens up!

#anon replies #replies #ask meme replies #crossthicc!wicke #crossthicc!android 21 #crossthicc!android 18 #crossthicc!tamm #crossthicc!tionishia #crossthicc!centorea #my OCs #mama defleini #odina #Anonymous

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